I’ve been trying to find time to get on the phone with a woman who grew up with my Grandma in Brooklyn. As we were trying to agree upon a time over email, she said something  that I cannot get out of my head: youth is busy. She sits, calm, in a sort of peace, waiting for me to find time to hear all that she has to say, all that I need to hear. Meanwhile, I spiral and vibrate and tremor and doubleback, trying to ‘find’ time when really, it’s right there in front of me. It’s right now.