Presence of Mind, Present of Time

There is no present like time. 

That is the somewhat shuffled but wise message offered up by The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. I loved the first one, only liked the sequel. Maybe it was the sight of the thoroughly white haired Richard Gere hobnobbing with the old Brits that threw me. I still remember putting off some already eleventh hour studying one evening in college to see American Gigolo. I don't recall anything about the test, but I recall everything about Richard. Everything.

I saw the original Marigold about three years ago, and found it particularly moving. To me, it was a movie about dreamers, young and old. And it was about those of us who are sandwiched somewhere in between, too young to dream, too old to dream -- really just too preoccupied to see clearly. Or maybe just too scared to seem ridiculous. Fast forward to three years later, and the "tweener" with whom I had so closely identified was being coaxed over to the other side. She was plumper and a bit more wrinkled than I remembered, but still beautiful, and a white haired Richard Gere is still, after all, Richard Gere, and I was thinking the other side doesn't look all that bad. I even stopped obsessing over whether my friend and I had gotten a senior discount on our tickets or whether movies are just cheaper on Tuesday afternoons. 

The young dreamers in the movie are still radiant and smooth-skinned and captivating. I envy the way their joints seem to guide them seamlessly and painlessly through the obligatory Bollywood style dance number. Some of the moves made me wince out loud. But the old dreamers, weathered faces notwithstanding, are still radiant and captivating as well. I identified with the way their joints seemed to crack and pop each time they even attempted to keep up. I smiled to myself as I shifted in my seat to relieve some of my own aches.

Three years ago, when I was so moved by the original Marigold, I decided it was time to get serious and write a book. Looking back, I realize I misunderstood the message. Sure, it was about dreams, but it wasn't necessarily about making dreams come true -- not immediately, anyway. I think I have learned, since then, or maybe I am just beginning to learn, that time is not running out simply because I might get a senior discount at the movies. None of us knows how much of it we have left, and, yes, there is no present like time. But, as the old saying really goes, there is no time like the present, and there is no need to rush.