One Life

According to the clock next to my bed, it’s been ten to twelve for the past two weeks. For reasons unknown, the second hand ticks away, making that lovely time-is-passing sound, but the time never changes. While this has caused a couple of frantic moments (before I realised that it couldn’t possibly be that late already,) I keep the clock there. Something about it makes me feel, well, thankful.

Let me explain.

I find it remarkable that it’s nearly June already. During school, time seemed to crawl, especially in those science lessons when even the grey clouds out the dirty window were more interesting than the work in front of you. Summer felt like the promised land, and you sat around for forty years waiting for it. Now I suppose that this is no original realisation, but having finished school, time has apparently sped up. Suddenly weeks feel like days instead of months. In one sense, this frightens me. I don’t like to think how little time I have left here or how close uni is.

And seeing that clock, so sadly deluded yet defiantly sure of itself, reminds me that however we feel and despite what we think, time has its own pace that doesn’t change. It will march on at the rate of 60 minutes per hour, and there’s nothing I, or my poor clock, can do about it. Time is not mine – which is a relief.

I imagine that an understanding of time has got to be high up there on the ‘must-have’ list of a good leader. I’m sure in the years to come I’ll understand it better, maybe after a few decades. At the moment I have little more understanding than my clock. But for now, I will use time the best that I can. And I will not let it frighten me.