Why are we always in such a hurry? We do sometimes need to get somewhere soon, or course, or to complete a task quickly. But is it really necessary for me to ferverishly scope out the shortest line at the grocery store every time I shop, or breathe a martyred sigh when they’re all back up two or three customers deep? Why is it that I feel the need to zip by other cars on the highway even when I’m not late? Or become impatient when I have to sit in a waiting room more than ten or fifteen minutes?

To get where? To do what?

These are the questions Marie Howe is asking herself in this poem. What do we gain from all this rushing around? And more importantly, what do we lose?

HURRY

by Marie Howe

We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store
and the gas station and the green market and
Hurry up honey, I say, hurry hurry,
as she runs along two or three steps behind me
her blue jacket unzipped and her socks rolled down.
Where do I want her to hurry to? To her grave?
To mine? Where one day she might stand all grown?
Today, when all the errands are finally done, I say to her,
Honey I’m sorry I keep saying Hurry—
you walk ahead of me. You be the mother.
And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking
back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says,
hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands..

From the collection, The Kingdom of Ordinary Time