In my house in Phoenix, we have a dining room table right in the center of the dining room. It’s impossible to fully close the room off from the rest of the house, and in order to get from the front of the house to the back, one must walk through the room. Almost every time I’m walking from the kitchen to another part of the house, I walk around the table the long way, before realizing that I should have gone the other way. I probably waste, at most, .05 seconds doing this. Not a lot of time at all. But if I took all of these parts of seconds and added them up, what would I have?
A few minutes maybe? An hour at most. And what could I do with that time? Run an errand, sit through a meeting, grab some coffee, write a blog post, fly from Phoenix to LA…the list goes on. But would it be enough time to tell someone I love them? Would I have enough spare time to mention that I love you, and make sure that you know it?
Scientifically speaking, technically an hour is enough time for two strangers to fall in love, if they ask the right questions and hold eye contact for exactly 4 minutes straight. 4 minutes. That’s all. In four minutes, I couldn’t get much of anything done. Memorize a poem, perhaps. Or ice a few cupcakes. Or, I suppose, fall in love.
So how is it then, that while I could fall in love in a mere four minutes, I couldn’t convince someone that I love them in an hour? I don’t know the answer to that. But whenever I walk around my dining room table the long way, and spend an extra .05 seconds walking, all I wonder is if I could have saved that. I wonder if I could have saved enough.