I like to consider time, from time to time.

When a child I didn’t think much about time, other than penalty paid for arriving late or lamenting its rapid passing when engrossed in summer evening’s game of tag or kick the can.  Despite my indifference, Mom emphasized its importance, and in a principally analog world taught clock’s dial using paper plate with cardboard hands.  Time’s grip strengthened as I grew, learning the hard way I had to allow time for bath, allow time for donning clothing, allow time for travel to bus stop, allow time for homework…”allowing time for” was irritating especially given play wasn’t afforded much of an allowance.

Later my mind turned philosophic. Is time illusion, as I’ve gathered in several interesting reads—one being Herman’s Siddhartha?  Wherein, if my memory is accurate, Siddhartha has a meditative epiphany in which he discovers time isn’t real and all things exist simultaneously.  Stone which can become soil which can become plant which can become animal and eventually stone again are really all those at once, but we don’t see this because of the illusion of time.  If this is true, why does time seem so real?

Consider our ancient ancestors, whose lives on balance I imagine were largely struggle and survival.  I picture tribe on trek to southern lands to avoid winter’s bite.  I’m certain they were keen to migrate safely, but distance and our friend time stood between them and goal.  I would think an event such as this would make time real, as there was hardship and longing standing in way.

In further nod to our predecessors, think of time between communication sent and response.  In a world of vessels powered only by wind pushing sail, letter written in US bound for Europe traveled by land to port, was loaded on ship, was conveyed across salty sea, and then placed on beast’s back as part of journey’s final leg.  This could take months.  In our day, satellites and cables spanning oceans reduce time between message transmitted and reply to a matter of seconds.  Is it possible for us to relate our almost instantaneous existence to the pace of days gone by?

Then came the relativistic viewpoint.  In Einstein’s world, of which I’m lucky to understand fleeting fragments, time is a fourth dimension intertwined with the three dimensions of space—spacetime.  This concept, championed by more than Einstein, was a revolutionary view of time’s relationship with universe.

What of parenting when all carry cell phones?  Let me propose a scenario wherein teen on date is to call or text at an appointed hour but doesn’t despite repeated pings.  Under these circumstances, minutes impersonate hours until child arrives home safely explaining that battery died.  Is time real for an anxious father pacing floor?

And then the question of one’s eventual degradation.  If fortunate infancy gives way to adolescence which gives way to adulthood which gives way to old age.  Today’s research points to a future where aging can be controlled, further cheating time.  In a someday world where life can be extended well beyond current expectancies what would we do?  Longer marriages?  More divorces?  Many careers?  Crazier parties?  Several college degrees?  Shattered hall of fame stats?  Dozens of children?

For what it’s worth, I don’t think time’s story is complete.  Whether illusion or governing force or something we’ve yet to define, I choose to count each grain of sand passing through hour’s glass as precious.