Some moments are so perfect that you wish time would stop so that some part of you could live in that moment forever. These moments can be significant milestones, such as receiving word that you’ve been accepted into your dream school or hearing that you landed the job you wanted. But more often, they are ordinary moments that don’t affect your life’s trajectory at all.
I cherish the moments that I spend curled up on my bed with my new kitten as she purrs as loudly as a motorcycle. Or the instant when my gaze meets my boyfriend’s as we walk along the esplanade on a beautiful day. Or when I’m cooking with my friend and we burst into song.
These moments are mundane, but they are perfect in their simplicity. While I may not be overjoyed at these times, I’m happy and comfortable. I would be content to spend a lifetime in those moments.
My desire for time to stand still is strongest when I’m with my mom. As I mentioned in a previous column, she recently started experiencing the mental changes associated with the onset of Huntington’s disease. With no cure currently available, every moment that I get to spend with her is precious. Sometimes it feels as if time is slipping away, that every time I blink another week has gone by.
Recently I visited home, just over a two-hour flight away. The weekend was wonderful. We watched both “The Addams Family” and “Addams Family Values“ — my inspiration for my Wednesday Addams Halloween costume. Sitting on the couch next to my mom with my dog on my lap was one of those moments I could live in forever.
Suddenly, I blinked and my parents were driving me to the airport. Then it was the next day, and I had work. Life continued, leaving that moment behind. I know that there is a scientific reason for the feeling that time speeds up as I get older, but I still wish that I could control it. With Huntington’s disease shortening the time that I have with my mom, it seems unfair that I can’t slow its advance.
Because my hope to control the passage of time is futile, I’m wishing for the next best thing: to extend time. Unless I wake up one day and realize that I have magical powers, extending time can only be accomplished with a treatment or cure. Because I can’t imagine a world without her, I have to hold onto that hope.
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