Springing Forward

Three years ago on my birthday, I thought I was turning 26. Daniel and I actually had a lengthy discussion about this. He insisted I was turning 27 and I insisted I was not*. After we'd resorted to using pencil and paper (including both math problems and a handy diagram representing age progression) to setting the issue, I realized I was turning 27 after all. Nothing had really changed, but I felt like I'd lost an entire year of my life. It was similar to the out-of-sync feeling you get when flying to a different time zone and realizing that your 12 hour flight only cost you 6 hours. These sorts of adjustments are hard because you're the only one trying to make them. You find yourself trying to reconcile being 27 or wanting to take a nap at 9am while everyone else is whipping past you on their unaltered, parallel paths. Twice a year, though, something odd happens. Everyone gets together and sets a date and decides to throw themselves out of sync together. This is known as Daylight Savings Time.

I always think of time as this unstoppable force. Even though I understand that the passage of time and it's measurement aren't the same thing, they're so intertwined that it's hard not to think of them as one in the same. From this perspective, Daylight Savings is a moment when everyone just agrees to suspend reality for a moment and move ourselves forward or backward in an instant. The only other comparable event I can think of is when a country's money has become worth so little that they just lop some zero off the end of the value and start again. Just imagine if this devaluation ever occurred on the same day as Daylight Savings time. One minute, you're standing there a millionaire at 3am, and the next minute, you've got a 10 spot in your pocket at 2am. I imagine that would be a little disconcerting.


* this, by the way, is proof that you should not be offended when I forget your birthday or can't remember how old you are. Try as I may, I'm not good at remembering these things, and it is not an indication of how much I value you as a friend. As further proof, to even remember what year I got married, I have to count forward from the year Daniel and I started dating, and the only reason I can remember what year that was is because I had just bought a new car and I know it was an '03 model. The fact that I can remember what year I bought my car and not what year I started dating my husband is because I have had to fill out a lot of forms asking what year my car is, but I have never had to fill out a form asking what year I met my husband. If one of my friends ever becomes medically incapacitated and gives me power of attorney to fill out all their medical and insurance forms, I will probably start remembering their birthday every year. Let's hope it never comes to that.