First word: Pamela Yorston: Time has left me alone

 Does Time take us by the hand at birth and plod along next to us to the grave?  Or does she let go our hand and let us run free, to and fro, lagging behind and then catching up and running ahead?  So that at any one time we are not chronologically where you might expect.

There was a gas leak in the building, and the concierge came up to see if the problem was in our flat.

“It must be in the 701,” I said. “It’s where that elderly couple live.”  I could see hi looking at me and added quickly, “More elderly than I am, at least.”

But they’re probably not.  They are likely a good five years younger than me, nut it just doesn’t feel that way.  I watch my friends hobble around holding on to the furniture, or using a walking stick and think to myself…what’s happened to everyone? I remember my mother saying something similar, feeling so much younger than her friends. 

Three-score year and ten is all we are promised, and every year after that is a gift, when we can let go the hand of Time and take a detour, stay out after dark and wander into the woods.  Until Time crossly calls us to heel, and we obediently take her hand again and march onward.