Springing Ahead



Springing Ahead 


The world has been quite loud in its non-sleepiness this morning. A crude, clear shout of a name. Murmuring in response. Car after car slopping through the muck on the road. (Did it rain? Is that what the slushing is all about?) All of this before 7 a.m.: this wanting to be awake or needing to. 7 is my marker of morning decency, particularly on a  Saturday.

I get up, expecting it to be 4 or close to it. It's 7:09. More than decent. It's so dark, however, that it seems like it's 6. 

Suddenly, I remember we did that...we did that to time by dragging back the clocks. It's funny to think of our tiny, human hands fumbling with the great clock of time.

Last night the sky was pinkish and golden rays still highlighted the green of the park. I was entranced and boggled at the same time. Glorious light, how did you find your way into the night? It was almost 8, and the tendrils of dark had yet to be unleashed.

I blinked and blinked, confused by the evening's softness. But then I remembered just as I did this morning that time had been altered, slanted back to give more light to the evening. It felt like it was 6:00...children occupying the park, running on grass and splashing on benches or through the colors of the fountain. Parents were chomping down on munchies, crossing the soft space as if they had control over the fate of the evening.

The night light flabbergasted and delighted me. (Isn't it so fitting that "light" should be part of "delight" as it lights you up?)

It has been over a week since we sprang ahead of time. My inner clock has yet to catch up.



Photo: <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/valentinsimon0-1187353/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=846873">valentinsimon0</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=846873">Pixabay</a>


Text: Kristen Mastromarchi

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