Jagger said it was on his side, Croce wanted to cork it up in a bottle, and it’s what Pink Floyd frittered and wasted in an offhand way.

Time.

It’s everywhere we turn: on time, in time, about time, over time, under time, in-a-nick-of-time, high time, out of time, through time, past time… you pick the preposition, and time is affiliated with it.

We spend our time, keep our time, lose our time, save our time, waste our time, mark our time, and and sometimes, make time.

We can run out of time, make a play for time, savor our time and spend our time.

I’ve read a lot about time. Einstein believed time could warp and Hawking thinks it possible to go back in time.

It is the antagonizing measurement between where we are, where we were, and where we want to be. It has an elastic quality. Summer vacation used to be a near endless collection of sunny days and warm nights to the second grade me. These days, the weeks, months and years seem to merge into a rapidly accelerating, fast-forward blur.

Whether it’s that titillating instant just before the five year old discovers what Santa brought, the ethereal seconds spent watching your bride walk down the aisle, or the priceless moments spent holding your child/wife/parent, time is constantly moving.

Many believe that time is merely a man-made tool for organizing life, and that before man, time did not exist.

If we made it, I think we screwed up a bit. Regardless of our relative position to it, time moves forward. The best we can hope for is to cling to the present and understand that as we do, the present silently slides into the past.