7
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“Felt time, as opposed to measured time, makes up the cursed environs of our meta-cogitating,” Garrett said to me once—
—and I laughed in her face because only my Praeses could intone such a word salad so seriously.
But I know what she means now.
It’s like when I’m racing. Not at the end or the beginning when my mental energy is fastened on opponents and destinations. But deep in the middle of the race, during flow. No looking back or forward; I am my ever-present, hurtling, heart-beating body. Timeless.
That’s how it is when I’m with Lillie when we play together.
After breakfast the morning after, since school’s been canceled until further notice, my family heads down to the beach. The waves are low and soft, the sky a wispy gray. Mom and Dad finally end their ho
