Writings in the Sand

Just Wasting Time

It’s that time of the month when I am waiting for the end of the month so a new month will begin. I scan all the bills and the bank ledger to make sure everything got paid and nothing snuck through unexpectedly while the rent check exists in that uncertain and cloudy period of time between its issuance and its presentation. That’s how I track time today - solemnly aware of how short it is, while wishing entire days of it away.

When I was a kid in school, time was measured by bells and serious black-framed clocks prominently displayed in every classroom. The hands slowed down after noon and barely moved at all as they approached dismissal time. Afternoons lasted forever. The time between dismissal and bedtime nearly danced away. It ran ahead of me and I never caught it.

Later, time was measured on time cards or by watchful eyes. No forgiveness for time wasted. Living for weekends to have some time of my own.

It doesn’t matter, you know. There’s never enough time and still we bid it hurry on, ever onwards. Time wasted, so much time wasted.