Does anybody know what time it really is?

I just spent three weeks away:  away from the phone, the television, my cell-phone.  I spent it away from easy internet access.

I just spent three weeks with:  with my husband, with friends, with art-galleries and historical sites, with great food and beautiful scenery.  I spent them enjoying a cup of coffee in a quite setting and watching the world go by.  I spent them soaking up some sunshine.

Today I found myself sighing over the need to return to “reality.”   Laundry, doing our own cooking, employment.  The business that our normal, day-to-day living engenders usually precludes things like art-galleries and historical sites.  And yet they are there.  We tend to drive by them on our way to a meeting.  We don’t seek them out as part of our regular way of living.  We just normally don’t think we have time for them, in our “real” life.

I am ashamed to say that I have fallen into the trap.  I am just as guilty of saving art and beauty and appreciation of the finer things for another day as the next guy.  Saving it for a rainy day.  For vacation.  For when there’s time.

But isn’t time happening right now?  The clock ticks in the kitchen and I choose whether to have a third cup of coffee and just enjoy the sunshine, or not.

And so I ask myself:  Is it time to make the donuts?  Is it time to stop and smell the roses?