“I think I just met the happiest person in the world,” she said breathlessly as she burst through the side door of their tiny condo. Her boyfriend, Nate smirked as she unburdened herself of the seven reusable store bags that she had hooked over both shoulders. She hated making multiple trips from the car.

“Well… who is this happiest person in the world?” Nate asked, as he began the process of unloading the groceries.

“Her name is Georgia, and I met her at the store. She was bagging my groceries. I would say she’s about 75, if I had to guess. Just the sweetest thing.’

“Sweet, but how could you tell she was happy?”

“Hmm. Well, in the three minutes we spent together, she smiled, she complimented my hair, she gently teased the new checkout boy when he almost gifted me the filets, and she did all this while deftly packing my bags. I don’t know— she just seemed to be totally in the moment— making eye contact, winking conspiratorially, like we were best friends. I don’t know exactly what it was, I just know how she made me feel.

Piles of odds and ends still waiting to be boxed up dotted the floor of her bedroom. She had lost steam about an hour ago, but they had to be on the road by noon, so she pressed on. Her packing was getting increasingly haphazard—toiletries were tossed into the crevices of jammed crates, and the other dorm necessities pushed into the remaining empty spots. She sat down on a clear corner of her bed and tried to settle the brain fog that was settling in. She leaned back onto a pile of sweatshirts and closed her eyes. She heard her bedroom door slowly open and expected to hear her mom chide her for slacking, but there were no words. Instead she heard the soft tinkle of Maple’s dog collar coming toward her. Her eyes still closed, she dangled her right arm off the side of the bed. Instantly, Maple pushed her soft head up into the palm of Jo’s hand as she pressed into the side of the bed. Tears came instantly as Jo forgot about all that college would bring her and instead considered what she would leave behind. She nestled deeper into the bed, pushing things aside as she did, and patted the clear space beside her. Maple jumped up and curled up beside her- the goodbye would have to wait a little longer.

She couldn’t remember a time When time was hers. Duty, guilt, and passivity- The trifecta of moment-stealers, Drained the hours from her days. The lovely distractions of marriage and children made her forget What she used to want. And she lived as the years passed by- It’s not that she didn’t. But she gifted the hours to those she loved Doing things she didn’t love. She abided the days pursuing their dreams, while hers inhabited the dusty shelves of a different time. And so the years had gone, and children had gone, and her will gone. And though people innocently still marked her hours as theirs, She remembered one time When she was little And hours didn’t matter, And minutes were for joy. And the best years were before her. And she took time back.