Tick tock. Tick tock.
A baby's born. A father dies.
Tick tock tick tock.
A widow morns. A new mother cries....
What I would do to slow the clock from ticking. Time from moving forward. Some widows I have spoken to tell me they draw comfort in the progression of time. That the moments that pass on the clock take them one moment closer to the time they will be together again.
I love that image. But can't share comfort in it. Time is still my enemy.
Its the cause of stress. Of heartache. Of sadness.
Its passing overwhelms me. So much that should be done. So much that is up to me. So much that I can't seem to muster the motivation or energy to accomplish.
And so the clock ticks and tocks. And what is undone remains undone. And time continues to march forward. Carrying my unwillingly away from a time when things seemed better. Easier. Away from him. Us. Even me.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
What I would do to exist away from time, away from expectation. To just be allowed to be. To not have to worry about the hours on the clock or the dates on the calendar. To accept it rather than fight it.
Alas, 'tis not the world we live in. There are responsibilities. Deadlines. Expectations. The hands of time are the hands of my captor. And I am their slave.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.....
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