Making the most of my two minutes
From The Backpack
Her mother walked over to the microwave and set the timer.
Two minutes.
She had two minutes.
When the alarm sounded, that would be it… bed time.
Before her mother’s finger even hit the button to start the count… she was gone.
Her first stop was in the family room, where she immediately hopped on the “spinny” chair that had become a favorite during her visit. Unfortunately, with her twin sister and younger brother already in their bedrooms, there was no one to actually spin it, so she had to entertain herself by rocking instead.
Her bedtime countdown tour went into the kitchen to look for some great snack or drink that might have appeared in the twenty-two seconds since she was last looking. Countertops were explored, relatives were kissed, but no chocolate was found.
Then it was off to the living room, where she saw her favorite stuffed animal and decided he needed to have his clothes changed. (Build-A-Bear may be one of the most underappreciated business ideas in years.)
A round of approval was gathered from on-lookers for the Halloween costume that had been packed but was now making a mid-November appearance.
From there she stopped by the open door of the bathroom to explain to her aunt that she had two whole minutes before bedtime. If her aunt understood her, it would have been amazing, but she was already heading down the hall to see her grandfather.
“I’ve got two minutes,” she said.
“What?” asked Grampa.
“Two minutes. I’ve got two minutes,” she responded, with a bit of frustration.
“I don’t understand. Two minutes until what?”
“Two minutes,” she explained, taking a deep breath and obviously a bit flustered that Grampa, instead of sharing her excitement, was slowing her down. “Mom set the alarm, and when…”
Beep beep beep
The alarm was followed by a head turning to the kitchen, wearing the saddest face of sorrow one could imagine.
Her two minutes were up.
My niece was visiting from Australia a few months ago, and this is an outline of the events from the final evening of their trip that led her way to bed. But as she trudged off to goodnight, I found myself laughing. She had managed to pack more into her two minutes than any two minutes of my day. In fact… given two minutes until bed… I would have been trying to
figure out if a visit to the bathroom counted against the clock while heading off to put on my pajamas and just get under the sheets. I definitely wouldn’t be racing around to make use of every second.
When did that end for me?
I can’t remember.
But far too rarely do I make use of time the way I could… or did.
It used to be that I… like all kids… just kept moving until my batteries were shot. Constantly moving… constantly on. These days… well… it seems the most generous to say that I pace myself.
I suppose that isn’t a bad thing. It gets me through the day and accomplishes almost everything I set out for in my schedule. But it definitely isn’t as exciting. It isn’t a maximum-value return on every investment.
I’m working on a deck for the house. Yesterday I cleaned the garage out. (Had to, I’m going to be bolting a support board in behind my workbench.) I did that because the back of the house was still a bit damp (I need to paint the garage before the deck gets built).
I got a lot done.
And it darn near killed me.
I suppose I won’t be running around with a microwave counting down to my bedtime. And I probably won’t be thrilled by leaping into every second of every day. But there’s a lesson in here… I think… about appreciating the time I have.
Maybe in a few weeks… on a quiet summer evening… sitting on my deck drinking lemonade while the sun is going down… I’ll figure out exactly what that lesson is.