i mislay time. sometimes a few minutes, sometimes an hour or two. sometimes, an entire day. i imagine that day slipping, unnoticed, out of my pocket in the early morning, and lying, discarded and forgotten, on the tiles of the bathroom floor, between the cracks on the staircase. and as it slips from my pocket, so my mind slips out of my body, unnoticed, and takes off on a journey of its own.
and it remains amazing to me, as well as a little sad, how effortlessly i can function without being present at all. i feed, i clean, i cycle to and from the playground, i mediate endless almost-collisions of will, i read books, i play games, i watch and care, i get out bikes, skates, art supplies, i fold endless origami animals, as required. all on automatic pilot. and where does my mind go? what does it have to show for a entire day of dreaming? i don't remember. was i riding bare-backed on a winged creature, saving unworthy pot-bellied princes? or was i sitting in a corner, hunched and nail-bitten, chewing on the slowly churning wheels of some private hell. i don't know. i wasn't there. neither here nor there.
what i do remember, vividly, is the moment of return. it was 18:20. the sun had just broken through the clouds and was drawing its trail of broken diamonds on the sea. the beach was deserted. my too-pale winter feet were turning pink from the freezing water. i took a deep breath. picked up a piece of blue glass. and just like that, something shifted, and life slid back, from a grainy black-and-white movie to its full-bodied sensual self.
( i hope someone found my lost day, i hope they picked it up, dusted it off. and went on to live it the way it yearned to be lived...)
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