For Mother’s Day, I’d made reservations at a sushi joint for an omokase dinner. But when I spoke with my mom on Saturday, she’d changed her mind.
“I don’t feel like eating sushi,” she said in Korean.
“Then what do you want to eat?” I asked. “The restaurants are going to be packed tomorrow, so I’ve gotta call one soon.”
“Burritos,” she replied. “Your mom wants to eat Mexican food.”
While I was eating my burrito, my mom brought up one of my least favorite topics: The tragic acceleration of time.
“One second you’re thirty. You blink and – just like that – you’re forty. Fifty comes even quicker. Then sixty. Life is really short, you know that, don’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, of course I know this,” I replied. “That’s why I’m not wasting any of that time being married.”
I absolutely can’t stand it when time flies. When you blink and – just like that – a weekend is over. Or you find yourself already flipping a page on your office wall calendar. Sometimes it scares the shit out of me.
A lot of the things I’ve done in life were motivated by this fear. All in an effort to slow life down before it flew off a tall cliff.
But it’s fairly pointless, when I think about it. Because if life really is that short, why spend it being so damn worried about it being short?
Although I am a bit concerned about my impending loss of any fashion sense ...
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