The time machine

I am sitting at my desk planning summer camps for my kids . It's only the beginning of March, but it doesn't matter - I've been thinking about summer camps since January. Most of my fellow-soccer moms signed up their kids for summer camps while skiing in Tahoe.

For many centuries, humans have been trying to invent a time machine that would take them into the future. At some point, without even noticing it, American humans actually succeeded. Now Americans permanently stay in the future. In many other countries, people struggle trying to get by from day to day. But not Americans. Americans are already way in the future, waving at everybody and smiling.

It's still snowing outside in many places, but our kids are already signed up for summer camps. We start planning our child's next birthday party the next day after his this year's party. We plan weddings and anniversaries years in advance. We buy airline and cruise tickets from 6 months to a year ahead.

If I need shorts for the summer, I have to buy them now. Right now, in March, the selection of shorts in any clothing store is colorful and abundant. 4 months from now, when I will actually need to wear shorts, clothing stores will not carry them. They will carry jackets for fall.

Why do I need to buy the shorts now? I will not wear them for months. What if by summer I gain a few pounds and will need a different size? What if I decide that I want a different color? What if I change my mind and decide not to wear shorts at all this season? Why do I have to make a commitment to shorts, instead of buying them a day before I actually wear them? Because the great american time machine has transported me way into summer already.

This constant living in the future takes a tall on us. It's very stressful. If we don't sign up for a camp on time, our kids run a risk of spending their summer in their own backyard. Imagine the horror! If a mom-to-be doesn't sign up for that prestigious daycare, she will have to teach her child shapes and colors all by herself when the time comes. What a nightmare that will be! If we don't book that nice restaurant for our birthday party a year in advance, we'll have to celebrate it at home in a small company of our closest friends. How sad! And so we stress and stress and stress to make all the arrangements on time so we can enjoy them in the future.

But what if there is no future? We forgot how fragile our life is. Between now and that event in the future that we are planning, our lives will change so dramatically! Our kids will be older and smarter, and we are missing a chance to enjoy their silly babble today. Our parents will be older and less strong, and we missed a chance to take a walk in the park with them yesterday. Our friends will move to another city, but we are not meeting with them this evening for a drink. We will change, our spouses will change, our views will change, seasons will change, and planning what WILL BE we forget to take the time to understand and appreciate what IS.

The spring is blooming. Go outside, look around, listen to the birds, enjoy the warm sun, smell the flowers. 3 months from now, the spring will be gone, and you will notice the fact that it flew right by you, and say: "it's summer already, where did the time go?" What do you expect - time machine only transports you from one time point to another without letting you enjoy the things that you pass by. It's much like traveling in a car - you get from point A to point B without experiencing what's in between these points, unless you actually stop and look around.

When our family takes a car trip, we make frequent stops. We might go to a local restaurant, window-shop, take a stroll down the street or visit a playground. Trips are so much more enjoyable when you experience the road instead of just driving from one destination to another. So is our life. I am getting dizzy of a constantly speeding time machine, passing by, one after the other, precious moments of my life. Instead of looking up summer camps, I am now going outside, to get fresh air or to window-shop (and I will not buy any shorts). And if there is no space left in a camp when I actually need it, I will play with my kids in a backyard, enjoying these moments, too. Today, the great american time machine lost one of its passengers.