Having just turned forty, I'm of the realization more than ever before in my life, that time is of the essence. I've not accomplished some of the things I'd hoped to achieve by now, and the idea of limited time has set in - which, to be honest, scares me. Though, I don't want the rest of my life to be defined by how I reconcile this. I want life to be about regular stuff - going to work, informalities, formalities, the weather, current events, etc. But, really, just beneath the surface of it all, I know it can't be any longer.
Its not that I haven't taken advantage of time, I've always been aware of it, resigned to it. Now, though, there seems a direness to the concept of limited time. I believe it's referred to as mortality. My Landlady, Barbara, knows about mortality. She's a wise and kind woman in her late sixties. Together with her husband, they have been the Supers here on East Boulevard for forty years! They've observed life through the guise of raking leaves, mowing the grass, making small talk with tenants, gently reminding people about their rent, changing light bulbs, showing apartments, and just plain being there. Life has taught them alot. I can tell after having talked with them here and there over the years. The kind of telling you get from their eyes, the way they speak - the kind of speak that lets you know there's not much they haven't seen here on East Boulevard.
Last year, Barbra found out she had cancer. A small spot on her lung. It appeared to be in the early stages. Cemo, said the doctor, would give Barbara a chance. Fast forward.
This past February, after a check-up, the doctor said the spot was not visible where it had been before. But there was another spot. The doctors want to monitor it. And so Barbara waits and hopes for the best. And she gains yet more wisdom, through tears, smiles, keeping busy, etc.
