my story with now

Now has often felt like it’s been in a hurry. If not running, Now is ready to run, expecting to run, considering what supplies she needs when the gun goes off and the racers are at their mark and it is time to go, go, go.

Why does Now feel like she is running—running away from me?

This happens almost every day, this conversation with Now. To be specific, it happens around two or three in the afternoon. I start counting down with Now how much time she has left until I need to make dinner. I start asking her what moments, exactly, are available to me to soak up, use up, mark up until Now is just plumb worn out and tired.

Like me.

I confess I beat up Now a lot. I am not nice. But expectant, greedy. I am a weigher of meaning, qualifying and quantifying—measuring what matters to Now and what doesn’t. Deciding what for Now is worth doing and what for Now is not worth a moment at all.

And that, I am realizing, is the reason why Now runs away from me so often; or, at least, why, I am sure, she seems always on the verge of running. It’s because I am expecting Now to run. I am expecting Now to run away. I am expecting Now to not want to be here. With me. Now.

It is no wonder that with this kind of pressure to perform, why Now struggles to relax . . . and breathe . . . and be comfortable . . . and want to stay.

So, Now, here I turn to you with contrition. I am sorry for my behavior. I am sorry for my despising you. I am sorry for wanting more than what you can give. I am sorry for my thinking that what you are giving is not what I need. I am sorry for my lack of gratitude. I am sorry for my pride. I am sorry for my contempt. I am sorry for my judgement.

You hold all things. You hold all goodness, all possibility. You hold my past and my future. You hold the promise of hope. You hold what was and is to come, your hands wrapped around it all like the most beautiful, shining gift. Why do I want to twist it from your grasp?

Please forgive me. I give you my heart, my mind, my imagination. I give you my attention. You deserve it. I deserve it. Teach me to be kind to you. I want to be kind. Now is where I want to be. Nowhere else. Please stay.

This post appeared originally at jenniferjcamp.com