'Time in the hand is not control of time...'

The Pomegranate
by Eavan Boland
The only legend I have ever loved is the story of a daughter lost in hell. And found and rescued there. Love and blackmail are the gist of it. Ceres and Persephone the names. And the best thing about the legend is I can enter it anywhere.  And have. As a child in exile in a city of fogs and strange consonants, I read it first and at first I was an exiled child in the crackling dusk of the underworld, the stars blighted.  Later I walked out in a summer twilight searching for my daughter at bed-time. When she came running I was ready to make any bargain to keep her. I carried her back past whitebeams and wasps and honey-scented buddleias. But I was Ceres then and I knew winter was in store for every leaf on every tree on that road. Was inescapable for each one we passed. And for me.                     It is winter and the stars are hidden. I climb the stairs and stand where I can see my child asleep beside her teen magazines, her can of Coke, her plate of uncut fruit. The pomegranate!  How did I forget it? She could have come home and been safe and ended the story and all our heart-broken searching but she reached out a hand and plucked a pomegranate. She put out her hand and pulled down the French sound for apple and the noise of stone and the proof that even in the place of death, at the heart of legend, in the midst of rocks full of unshed tears ready to be diamonds by the time the story was told, a child can be hungry.  I could warn her.  There is still a chance. The rain is cold.  The road is flint-coloured. The suburb has cars and cable television. The veiled stars are above ground. It is another world.  But what else can a mother give her daughter but such beautiful rifts in time? If I defer the grief I will diminish the gift. The legend will be hers as well as mine.  She will enter it.  As I have. She will wake up.  She will hold the papery flushed skin in her hand. And to her lips.  I will say nothing.

When I read your inbox this morning I began thinking about the concept of time and how quickly the process of life causes us to change. Sometimes it can feel as though the whole world has changed in the blink of the eye and we missed it. 

Thinking about this I began thinking of my up coming move to a new continent. This move will be a whole new world for me and the changes which will occur within me, to my appearance, to how  I live and see things will be all unnoticeable to me as i am living them, I will be creating these changes, i suppose we are all like chameleons in that sense. However when I return home to visit my family having been away from them for over a year maybe the changes will be extremely noticeable to them and visa versa, my siblings will have grown up, their faces will have changed, their attitudes, their voices, their hobbies. Instead of thinking of this in a negative way and feeling as though I missed so much I will be accepting it for just what it is, the natural progression of time.

Our lives are full of deadlines, times to sit exams, times to arrive to work, schedules for everything and whilst all of these things are being kept up to date the entire world and the people who inhabit it are changing constantly, we only perceive these changes to be quick and sudden because we are so distracted maintaining everything else. 

However, this is not a bad thing, in my opinion we need to miss some of life's changes in ourselves and in our loved ones and out surrounding as seeing the constant changes would be unsettling and life would become a race.

Instead I propose that we endeavor to live our lives as we like, to love and appreciate everything we have while we have it and when we are faced with changes to embrace them instead of fighting them as these things will soon be normal for us. We are lucky to have the rare gift of sharing our lives with the person we love and that is a precious gift to be enjoyed everyday whilst making the most of our lives instead of anticipating and fearing the inevitable changes.

I love you <3 

D. Mount.