I find that youth is alive with rush. I was there always looking ahead, really unable to be where I was. Now that I am slowing down, I marvel as others zoom around me with anxiety that leaves me speechless.
One evening I put my three year old daughter in the bath and left to attend to the other children and tasks. When I returned my friend, Ukiah, was sitting on the edge of the tub washing behind my daughter's ears. Had I been too busy to attend to these details, or had I carelessly trusted in her toddler independence? Which ever, I was humbled; and that moment has remained with me as a reminder of haste.
One of my favorite children's books was about a carousel horse named Arab, who had escaped from his carousel to have many adventures in the world of real people and horses. One of his adventures took him to a boy in Arabia, who for penance, was told to wash between his toes forty times a day. Forty times!? Wow! That struck me as strange, until I realized that people in that time and place walking in the desert sandaled or barefoot needed to pay close attention to the hygiene of their feet. I have adopted the practice, not the forty times part, but I wonder if everybody knows about this.
I simply didn’t have the time
to scrub behind your ears.
I was much too pressed
to wash between your toes.
I was in a ridiculous rush
to go nowhere and grow old.
Nervously checking the time,
there must be something
scheduled somewhere;
a class, a meeting, a fire.
I knew I couldn’t wait.
I was in a hurry to expire.
August, 2007
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