Set your watch for now

3 am. 

Yes, one of those times that’s so early in the morning it’s technically the night before.

Jen and I are at Mom’s apartment packing her up.

We’re only packing suitcases because we’re taking her to Hawaii to see her family.

But Mom doesn’t want to go. The early morning/late night escape includes a slight argument with Mom.  She doesn’t want to leave her new boyfriend, Bruce. She suggests Jen and I head on without them and they’ll catch the next boat to Hawaii.

We “win” the argument by allowing her to slip a “Dear Bruce” goodbye letter under his door on our way to the airport for the DC to California, California to Hawaii flights.

Once checked in at our AirBnB, we set out in the rental car to drive Mom through some of her childhood neighborhoods. 

I sit shotgun, navigating, while Jen drives to the house where Mom and her 6 siblings grew up. Open car windows let the fragrant island breeze flow through the car. A bouquet of familiar and new sights bloom with each turn toward Mom’s childhood home.

That house has so many memories for me so I can only imagine the therapeutic benefits of recalling some long-seated memories for Mom. 

I turn to check Mom’s reaction, expecting a wistful expression on her face. It’s been nearly a decade since she’s been back home.

I can’t see her expression.  She’s not even looking outside. She is in full lap prayer, on her cell phone, dialing Bruce who’s still back in Virginia, left with only Mom’s letter to explain her absence. 

He answers before the second ring and we sit in the car in front of Mom’s childhood home while she giggles on the phone with her 82-year old boyfriend.

Bruce’s loving voice is clear through Mom’s speakerphone, “How was your trip, baby?” 

I roll my eyes just like I’m sure my parents did when I was in the throes of young love.

While I am still mid-eye-roll, Mom relays Bruce’s question to me in hopes that I can remind her about a trip she’s already forgotten, “How was our trip, honey?”

My mind answers, “Expensive,” but my voice utters, “Fine Mom.”

In case Bruce couldn’t hear my answer, Mom relays it to him, “It was fine.” 

Satisfied with that, Bruce inquires “What time is it there?” 

“Almost 7” Mom tells him.

I look at my watch which automatically updated to the Hawaiian time zone and sees that it’s only 1 pm, simultaneously remembering that I didn’t change Mom’s analog watch since we left Virginia.

Bruce is curious about the time, “Really?” 

I’m curious about the conversation. Mom looks at her wrist again, confirms the timepiece still says 7 pm, “Yup.”

Regardless of the hours we flew to get from the East Coast of the continental United States to a small Pacific island, Mom’s watch stayed on the same time zone where her heart was — in Virginia.

Her “now” isn’t in the car in the neighborhood where she was raised.

Her “now” is the conversation with Bruce, 6 time zones away. And she is fully present with Bruce. Despite Mom being 6 hours in the past (or Bruce being 6 hours in the future), their watches let them know they are in the same present. 

Bruce and Mom have a leeeennnnggggtttthhhhyyyy discussion of wonderment at how she could have gone to a place that took two planes to get to and yet still be in the same timezone.

Sometimes, we get caught up thinking the answer for bliss and tranquility lies in an expensive jet-set trip to a Pacific island. 

Yet, for all the money I spent to jet-set Mom to her home on a Pacific Island, her happiness and peace were in the very place where her everyday life was lived. 

Imagine if we had the same ability to be present.

Imagine if we were 100% invested in conversations with others, whether it’s in person, on Zoom, chat, e-mail or messenger. Not checking notifications on our phone or e-mails in the window behind our virtual platform or the Pinterest recipes on our browser. 

What’s wrong with right now? 

How hard would it be to be on the same “time zone” as the person you’re with, whether in person, on the phone, over Zoom or through a written note.

We lose sight of right now because we think we can do so much at the same time in the “right now.” Multi-tasking helps us get less out of the now and lengthens the time it takes to do all those tasks.

Give it a shot. When you’re with someone, be with them. 

Set your watch for the same now as them. 

Be present with them and enjoy the beauty of the moment.