It’s 1:00 am. I’m up early for the start of another day. There is nothing new about this routine. Usually, my day starts around 2:00 am with my fingers running across the keyboards of my desktop. I will write until around 5:30 am, then take a nap and arise again around 7:00 am and run through the routine of dealing with people who sleep through the night.
Perhaps, the only difference about this day is that the calendar on my desk says it is October 16, 2019. It seems that just a few days ago it was October 16, 2018. That was the day I turned 67 years of age.
According to the calendar, that was one year ago today. It seems just like last week, and I do not feel like I aged one bit since last October 16.
Can it be that time stood still over the course of the last 365 days? I’ve often heard it preached that God almighty restores the time that the locust ate. It seems, in one year I’ve gotten some of my time back, time that I began losing 18 years ago. I’m not complaining. It rather feels good not to age; to enjoy the life of a man much younger than my chronological age.
Yesterday, I traveled to my hometown to visit my 90-year-old mom. When I sauntered into the house, she greeted me with a “Happy Birthday, I know it’s not until tomorrow, but Happy Birthday,” she said.
Oh, wow, did I feel good. I thought to show up on the day before my birthday would confuse her. But not to worry, a mother knows. How could a mother possibly forget the day she presented a bundle of joy to the world?
At 68, I feel good. At least the calendar says that I’m 68. With the year I just lived, I do not feel anywhere close to 68. The past 12 months presented its set of challenges as have the 66 years that preceded it. Nevertheless, time virtually stood still for me as I traversed the complexes of life pushing towards the close of the second decade in this century.
I wonder how will it feel next year this time. Since I am regaining my youthful years, I pledge to have a bit more fun over the course of the next 365 days.
As I raise a glass of Merlot in the early morn to toast the roll-back of time, cheers to all my friends. I hope that each of you will get back some of your time that has ticked off the clock or that the locust ate!
Harold Michael Harvey is the author of Freaknik Lawyer: A Memoir on the Craft of Resistance. He is a Past President of the Gate City Bar Association. He is the recipient of Gate City’s R. E. Thomas Civil Rights Award, which he received for his pro bono representation of Black college students arrested during Freaknik celebrations in the mid to late 1990s. An avid public speaker, contact him at email@example.com