Last night as I was luxuriating in my newly made-over bed I couldn’t help but feel like I was in a hotel room. It has been years since I’ve had matching sheets and pillowcases as well as a matching quilt and sham set. I do not exaggerate. My first matching sets were given to me as bridal shower gifts exactly 18 years ago. (Wow! that means we’ve been a couple for 20. Where has the time gone?) Needless to say, that comforter had gotten nearly a decade of use and then, faded and worn, was repurposed as a dog bed. The sheets were used and washed so many times that they became threadbare and impossibly soft. Since then I’ve been using whichever mismatched sheets that I've had on hand and various quilts and comforters that have been cast-offs from my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. All have been used until they could be used no more and then those too were lovingly repurposed into pet beds (having a rotation of blankets for elderly, incontinent dogs is a necessity).

Given my penchant for reusing items some people might call me cheap; frugal at best. However, my reason behind using what is available to the point that it can no longer be used is simply an environmentally conscious one for both the outdoor environment and the one inside my house. I despise both waste and clutter. I do not want to store items nor do I want to throw any away. Storing them just leads to an excess of items that are forgotten about and tossing them in the trash just adds to the landfill. I happily try to donate usable items but even local donation centers are swamped by the detritus of other people’s lives and often much of it ends up in dumpsters. One outlet for any overflow of items is the Buy Nothing groups on Facebook. Sometimes a person needs exactly the item for which I no longer have a use and it makes me feel good knowing that someone saved money and a little less went into the day’s waste stream. My goal however is to not have to declutter at all and this can only be achieved if I don’t allow any unnecessary items to come into the house

So, when my last quilt was mended and flipped for the last time, I felt good when I clicked the purchase button on the vibrant mid-century orange floral quilt and sham set. For the first time in many years, I wasn’t settling for what I had on hand and I was excited to add a much-needed pop of color to my very neutral bedroom. The floral pattern stirred something in me. I guess it reminded me of my childhood and the days of my mom’s funkier style of decorating (or it was just in fashion at the time).

Thinking about Mom’s unique interior decorating makes me a bit wistful. I have a thing for nostalgia. I love anything that has a story and I love reusing items that others would discard. Most of the furniture throughout the house is vintage hand-me-downs. My bedroom set belonged to my brother-in-law’s parents and his mother specifically requested that I be gifted it. At the foot of the bed is my mother’s hope chest painted sea green. It shows wear from when my brother scratched it and has mismatched decorative knobs (because a bunch was missing and I couldn’t find exact copies) but it belonged to her. I wonder if her hopes and dreams come true during her 42 years of marriage. My daughter’s bedroom is a composite of pieces belonging to my long-deceased uncle, my mother, and even my grandmother. My kitchen table is the one at which we all sat for family dinners and it is the only item I wanted from my Dad’s house after he passed. I love everything about it from its yellow-painted pedestal base to its worn finish. Plus it makes my kitchen complete since it matches perfectly with my vintage yellow floral Mikasa Garden Club dinner wear. These pieces were given to me by my mother when I bought my first house. She picked them out when she got married in 1960 and I just love them. I never once thought to purchase any other set. We use them every day and my kids know that if they break one I will be more upset because of my sentimentality than because of mess or expense. Fortunately, eBay is flooded with them so I can pick up whatever may be missing from mom’s original collection.

It is no wonder why that when I sat down to choose new bedding I chose something reminiscent of my youth. I’m not looking to be admired for my keen sense of style. I’m looking to feel comfortable in my own home and that comfort comes from being surrounded by memories of a time when my whole family was alive and together. It amazes me to think about how all these items have stood the test of time. To me, that means two things - craftsmanship was superior back in the day, and possibly cherishing an item keeps it “alive”. I honestly can’t fathom the thought that these pieces could have ended up discarded and crushed.

I don’t dare think about the future and the fate of my beloved vintage items. I only think about the journey through life up until this present moment and, oh, how fast it has gone. That got me wondering about time and why as we get older it seems to go by so quickly. When I speak with friends and family we talk about the 90s like it was yesterday and then I remember that that decade ended more than two decades ago. WHAT? When did we Gen X kids become the adults we are today? I still think of my best friend as the teen who had to match every piece of her outfit. And I still see myself with my long “rat’s nest” hair ( my mom’s words) wearing cut-off jean shorts with a flannel tied around my waist. But here I sit a quarter of the way through the first year of a new decade wondering just where did the previous four months go and why can’t I remember a fair amount of it.

I have my ideas of course as to why this happens to me as well as every other adult out there. It isn’t always “time flies when you’re having fun” because lately, I haven’t had much fun with all the meal prepping and homeschooling that needs to be done. I think it’s the fact that I’m on autopilot. I’m sure you can relate? It’s like when you have a long commute and after doing the same route day after day the drive doesn’t seem so tedious. But throw and detour in there and the unfamiliar roads make the drive seem like it is taking forever. I think about when I was a child and how waiting for Christmas or my Birthday seemed like an eternity. These days I feel like it was yesterday that I turned 40 but in reality that was almost five years ago. How many of you can recall being in school and watching the seconds tick by ever so slowly? Now I blink and lunchtime has turned into dinner time. Another blink and I’m getting ready for bed. How many of you look at your kids and wonder what happened to my baby and who is this giant teenager standing before me? Oddly enough it still says “MOM” a whole lot.

I don’t know about you but this fast passage of time sometimes bothers me. I start feeling uneasy because my mind begins to race through the list of all the things I want to do only to come to a grinding halt when yet again I am making lunch and then doing the dishes. If the previous two decades of my life have proved anything it’s that time marches on with or without you and it’s important to make every minute count. I am now the same amount of years from the age I was when my mom died and Mom’s age on that day. Nearly seventeen years have passed so quickly! I so want, no I need, to make the next seventeen count.

Now, this is not some middle-age reawakening where I empty my bank accounts and fly off to distant lands. No, I am quite happy where I am on the property, the best purchase my parents ever made, with my family and my animals. I just want to figure out a way to slow down time or I should say slow down the speed at which I perceive it to be going. I don’t want my days to blur. I don’t want to dread upcoming holidays because I feel pressured. I don’t want another birthday to pass and think to myself that I should have done more during the year. So I took it upon myself to do a little research.

I read several articles on the passage of time and apparently, this phenomenon of life passing us by is a popular subject. According to the experts, the reason that time passes slower for young children is that it is “stretched” with more information. Their constant learning combined with the amount of time they’ve been alive makes them experience the chronological passing of hours, days, weeks, months, and years so much different than those of us who have been alive longer. For example, I’ve been alive 5.6 times longer than my 8-year-old daughter. For her a month is 1% of her whole life whereas for me it is only 0.18%. Relatively speaking it makes sense that a month feels like it takes longer to pass for someone so young. Also, this information shines a light on why school seems to drag on and on because not only does the amount of time comprise a decent percentage of their life but the absorption of new experiences and lessons slows the passage of time. Maybe I’ll be a little more understanding when she complains that her school work is taking forever or when she asks me how many days until the next holiday.

Well, now we understand why time passes differently for different age groups. But what can those of us on autopilot in the fast lane do about it? I for one like the idea of learning something new and having new experiences. This is also the advice an expert would give. According to Dena Kouremetis “If you want to slow down your perception of time, change things up. Make the days last by doing something different. If that means exercise when none existed, do it. Taking a class or a music lesson? Don’t hold back. Who cares about how dumb we look at this age? When we are young we experience so many firsts. Every year, there was the first day of school, new friends, perhaps a first love, and first break-up. Because firsts are not as common at our age, however, we have to gravitate toward what is DIFFERENT for us.”

I will stop here with the psychology portion of the post and try to wrap up this whole circuitous wondering but that’s the reason I write - to take notice of the seemingly meaningless moments and ponder my way to a life lesson. As I sit here at my (priceless) kitchen table, in the same spot my mom always sat, reflecting on why I do what I do and love what I love I can’t help but to feel a little less anxious and a whole lot more grateful for the life I’ve been given. I hold on to the treasures of the past because they are more valuable than anything money can buy. I am drawn to bold floral prints of my youth because they make me happy. I write because while I focus on this singular task time stands still as it flies by. I am who I am because of who raised me and how I chose to incorporate their lessons into my life.

Since this post was inspired by a quilt that reminded me of my mother I will close by using her as an example. Mom was a good teacher, especially when it came to valuable time management. She was always honing a new skill, usually along the DIY lines. This is a woman who in middle age re-sided the house, fenced in the pastures, added upholstery to her already impressive seamstress skills, and took up woodworking. The day she passed there was a partially reupholstered chair (meant for my house) in the kitchen and a hanging wooden cutout sign at the end of the driveway reading ‘Two Old Crows Live Here’. That sign was so cute and when my husband and I moved here 2 years later we kept it up (even though we weren’t old crows yet). Unfortunately, the sign got broken and was beyond repair. I hadn’t thought about it for years until just the other day. I was cleaning out Mom’s old forgotten garden shed and came across the same sign but on a post. I carried it up to the house and stuck it in the ground because I’m sentimental and because I’m not as young as I used to be. That sign is going to stay there as a reminder that, although we are all given the same amount of hours in a day and days in a week, we are not guaranteed the same amount of time on this Earth. I plan on filling my time with laughter, learning, and love; not succumbing to the drudgery and monotony that can cause life to be a passing blur.

I’d love to hear about how you plan on using your time. Leave a comment below.