I was at work one afternoon when an older gentleman sat on a chair across from my desk. He caught my eye and said, “Good morning.” Then, realising his mistake, he corrected himself, “Good afternoon.”

I smiled at him, “Yes, good afternoon. Time sure goes fast.”

He returned my smile with a faint upturn of his mouth, as though he were reflecting on something beyond our simple exchange. And, in a soft voice, he said, “Tempus fugit.”

At the time, I had no idea what the phrase meant, so I tucked it away as something to look up later. Little did I know this man had handed me a gift.

The Latin phrase, tempus fugit, translates to time flies or time flees. It’s such a simple phrase, but it’s one that has stayed with me.

Lately, I’ve become increasingly aware that the passing of time is relentless. It does not linger for joy, neither does it pause for grief. It keeps moving, carrying us along with it.

Yet, there are moments that never disappear entirely.

Some moments we carry close to our hearts forever, and others just touch our lives briefly before returning to us months or even years later.

There is something deeply poignant about time. It has an unquestionable beginning and end. But it’s the fleeting moments between those two points, the ephemeral, almost imperceptible ones, that fascinate me the most.

Jacqui x