Life Is a Blur

I recently learned a new photo technique that takes several photos in a timed sequence and blends them into one blurred image. The result is artistic, not just out of focus. But why am I downloading an app to blur things? At my age, my glasses are the first thing I reach for every morning to bring the world into focus.

With my fiftieth high school reunion coming up, I’m looking forward to seeing old friends, catching up, and finding out what happened to everybody. I would also like to find out what happened to the last fifty years. I could have sworn they were right here a minute ago.

A favorite bakery just celebrated its fiftieth anniversary, too. I decided the occasion deserved my focused attention, so I ate in. While enjoying a bowl of soup on a rainy day, I thought about how many times the bakery had shown up at important life events. Weddings, ballgames, baby showers. Fifty years sounds like a long time until you start remembering it.

The highlights are easy to pick out. In between were all those ordinary days when we were getting somewhere, finishing something, and figuring out dinner. Most didn’t seem particularly memorable at the time. Besides, there would be plenty more.

I want to report that the calendar has rolled over faster than previously anticipated. So far, I’ve tried to fit more into it.

Later this month, I leave on a major bucket-list photography trip. There are vaccinations to get, camera equipment to check, and clothes to coordinate. Every time I cross something off the list, two more things show up at the bottom. I suspect the list is writing itself.

I’ve already started my post-trip to-do list, too. Apparently, I’ve been reserving space for things I haven’t had time to do while preparing to get away. My return has obligations before I’ve even departed.

People know I’m leaving and hope we can finish their projects before I go. So, do I. I love helping, and I’m much better at seeing how I can help than figuring out where it will fit. Each time I say yes to a new project, I operate under the comforting delusion that tomorrow will have thirty hours in it.

Much of what fills my days is there because I want it there. That doesn’t make it all fit. Sometimes I get to the end of a day and can tell you what I accomplished, but very little about what I noticed. By evening, conversations, errands, camera practice, and whatever I had for lunch have blended into “I was busy.”

Enough of those days run together, and suddenly I’m at my fiftieth reunion wondering where the time went.

Fifty years ago, I used a Kodak to take pictures of my life. And here I am, buying an app to blur perfectly good images. It makes beautiful art. It also looks suspiciously like my life.

Now I want an app that works backward: takes the blur and separates it into small, clear moments. A bowl of soup on a rainy day. A conversation with a friend. Time at the studio table.

Or maybe I just need to borrow that Kodak back.