A Few Moments in Time

Have you ever been in a situation where you wished beyond all measure that you could freeze time in place? To keep that moment, or to take your time there. Maybe the person you love has a hold on your hand, while the sun is creeping behind some mountain range in a fire lit sky. Maybe your best friend is going to college across the country, but before they go, you’re having a drink together and everything that comes out of their mouth is making you crack a smile while your heart aches knowing you won’t see them for an age.

Sure you have.

Everyone has those moments. I had one when I was only 6 years old. My dad had brought home a bunch of huge cardboard boxes and fashioned them into a sort of cardboard castle. I couldn’t leave it alone that first night. My parents let me eat my dinner there, and I knew they would be telling me to go to bed eventually… but I wished my very hardest for the chance to live in that cardboard kingdom for even a few minutes longer.

There were other times. Most of them as silly and selfish. And then one day, I did it. I stopped time. Well no, I didn’t stop time, but I stopped everything else. I’m no physicist, I can’t tell you how I did it. I can’t tell you what otherworldly forces or genetic abnormality allowed me to freeze the world in place, but it happened.

I wish I could tell you that it was some great romantic moment. Freezing the moment a child was born and held in my arms, or holding the world in place as I held a lover. Nope. I froze time in the middle of exams. Staying up late to study had done nothing for me, and I was struggling to answer the simplest questions. More time was spent staring at the deadline than the actual test. The teacher, Mr Evans started tapping his pen rhythmically on the test, and time was starting to run out. Somehow I summoned the will to look down and focus. Though my soul ached for more time, I forced myself to start working.

I NEED MORE TIME

Slowly, the answers started to come. A rhythm formed, and I was doing better but I knew the time would run out eventually. I NEED MORE TIME. Just a few more answers. I NEED MORE TIME. Make sure to show the work. I NEED MORE TIME. And on, and on it went. Mr Evans hadn’t stopped me and I wouldn’t look up until I was finished. Then I finished. Then I looked up.

The clock sat in the same position it had been in when I last looked. Students around me sat with the oddest looks on their faces. It’s hard for me to describe to you. They aren’t in a photograph, because they’re alive right in front of you. But the static realm that they inhabit leaves them in a place that’s almost less than alive. To look at them would grip you with feelings, the way a brilliant painting or piece of art might. Eventually, in my own mind I would call them “painted statues”, but of course I didn’t know what to make of it when I saw it for the first time.

Yes, first time. It wasn’t a fluke.
As the years skipped on, it was a skill that I learned to master. Whenever it was needed, I could hold time in place. Like an exercise it actually got easier and easier.

I froze time a lot in college. Passed with a 4.0 GPA and made myself a legend on campus. It was really easy to find time for everything when you could sleep at the same time as time itself. People would ask me how I did it, and I would always shrug and say “I don’t need much sleep”. Telling everyone the truth didn’t feel like an option. Why give back the edge you’re given?

The way I spent time in those days was very similar (I imagine) to the way a lottery winner spends their winnings; with frivolous abandon. There was no reason to worry about time, because I had enough of it. If you could buy a car with time, I would have. But then, time is money… so I suppose I did buy cars with it.

The day I met my wife, I was in Paris trying out espresso and soaking up culture. She was there on a student visa talking with a classmate about their course in classical French literature.

I held that moment. Staring at her face and forgetting any other vain reason I might have had for being there. I wanted to talk to her, but more than that, I wanted to impress her. What was the point of being just another mortal approaching a goddess? That moment was probably held for 3 months in real time. In all that time, I learned everything I could about classical French literature. Voltaire, Hugo, and Diderot to start. I learned anecdotes and interesting stories about the lives of Charles Baudelaire and Alfred de Vigny. Only when I was confident in being able to recognize the difference between baroque and classicism did I have the courage to unlock calendar and approach her.

“Pardon me miss”, I began boldly. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re taking a course in French literature? That’s one of my favorite topics.”

She rolled her eyes at me with an apologetic smile.

“Really? Wow, I can’t handle it. I’m so glad our course is over! I hope I never have to hear about classic poets ever again. Hahaha, sorry you look so shocked! I mean no offense.”

I may have frozen the world again just to compose myself.

We were married two years later in the spring. (It was actually around 4 years). We honeymooned in Fiji for close to 6 years. In all this time I never thought twice about holding a moment, because those were the moments you wanted to hold. They were worth it. Even now I’m not sure I would take those times back.

People made wisecracks when we came back. “Wow, the honeymoon’s over already hey?” and I would laugh. At first I was nervous that they were on to my little glitch, but when I looked in the mirror one morning I noticed it. I looked older than anyone else my age.

At 26 (apparent) years old I was using reading glasses. That was normal, I assumed. At 30 I had a full head of grey hair. My body was slowing down, even as my peers were reaching their physical peaks. My wife grew concerned and made me visit the family doctor. I just nodded along as specialists took turns poking and scraping at me, trying to find the reasons for my extreme aging. One particularly impressive looking woman diagnosed me with a rare genetic disease, and promised me that there were quite a few promising studies looking into a cure. She didn’t understand it when I laughed.

Stopping my calendar abuse was the only cure, but I could never stop. When my son was born, I stole every moment. I knew the price, and worked diligently to make sure that my family would be okay financially without me.

A priest came to the hospital one day and looked at me so sadly. He said “You’ve done a lot with your life, and I’m glad of that. Not many are able to accomplish what you have in such a short time. It’s a crime you weren’t given more time on this earth.”

By all accounts I was realistically 91 years old when he said that, but I still agreed with him. I spent a lot of time in a few moments, but there isn’t much I would not give for a few moments more.

I need more time.