TIME ON HER HANDS

***After 8 months hiatus from writing, 3 of the 5 prompts brought me back to Reedsy. Yay!***

‘Scuse me ma’am. Would you mind if I ask you one simple question?

Well, that depends on the question, doesn’t it? If I give you an answer, then I guess I don’t mind, but I don’t have a lot of time, young man. So what is your question?

Well, actually, “time” is exactly what I wanted to ask you about. I just wondered if you’re obsessed with time?

Now, why would you ask me that? Because I have so many wrinkles and grey hair? Of course I think about time…all the time, in fact. After all I am 78 years old!

No, it’s not that.

Then, what is it young man?

Well, I just happened to notice that you have a watch on each of your wrists. So, I’d like to know why you wear two watches?

Ah! You noticed. Yes, I guess most people would find that rather odd and think I’m obsessed with time. But if you look closely, you’ll notice that they are both smartwatches not regular watches.

Oh, I see. So you are obsessed with fitness then. We have that in common.

No, we have nothing in common, young man. I’m old and you’re young. I’m female and you’re male. You have all the time in the world, but I don’t. But above all, I’m not obsessed with anything, especially fitness and technology. 

I’m sorry. Can we start again please? May I return to my original question and ask why you are wearing two smartwatches?

Now that’s not exactly the same question, is it? Oh, never mind. I’m just being a pedantic, crochety old school-teacher, but my mind flits from thought to thought faster than milliseconds on a clock. After all, my time is running out and you’re using up some of the little I have left. Now, what was your original question again? 

Well, my original question was whether you are obsessed with time.

Ah, that’s right. I remember now. You’re an inquisitive one, aren’t you? Are you a reporter or something? 

Well, I have thought about becoming a journalist but…

Journalism eh? You know, that was my second choice if I couldn’t become an airline hostess. My father talked me out of being an airline hostess saying I’d be nothing but a high-flying waitress…

So why didn’t you become a journalist instead?

Again, my father convinced me I didn’t have what it takes to be a writer. He said I’d be better off teaching others how to write. You know that old saying?

What saying is that?

Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. So I became a teacher. 

That’s interesting. It actually brings up another question.

But I don’t think I answered your first question yet…did I? Well you better ask this one before YOU forget it. After all, memory is fleeting and fragile. Believe me, I know. So what’s this question now?

I’m thinking, if you could turn back time, would you? And where would you go back to?

That’s two questions, young man. But quite frankly, I wouldn’t want to turn back time.

You wouldn’t?

No, I wouldn’t. But that said, there is one past event I’d like to revisit and change what happened.

And that event is?

A recurring event in the last couple of months before my mother passed away from cancer. She was the same age I am now. That’s scary, come to think of it. But anyway, mom would sit up in her room watching her beloved old musicals, and when I’d bring her a cuppa, she’d ask me to stay and watch with her.

And did you?

Just about never. For one thing, I’d seen most of them before. But secondly, I didn’t have time. I was so involved in Facebook, my websites, my blogs, my adult daughters’ dramas and traumas that I’d stay for 5 minutes then tell her I had to get back to “work”. Thing is I’d already retired and she knew that. Nonetheless, she’d look at me with her rheumy, ravaged eyes, smile and say “That’s okay, love. I understand. Your work is important.” The stupid part is none of it was work, and none of it was more important than spending some time with my dying mother.

You regret that, don’t you? 

You’re damn right I do! And now I am at that same point in my life and guess what? My girls haven’t got time for me either… well, not as much as I’d like, of course. But I get it: they’re busy with their own lives. I often wonder if they too will one day wish they’d given me more time.

You’re guilt-tripping me a bit, you know. I love my folks but if I’m honest, I don’t give them much of my time either. Let me ask you this then: if you could stop time, would you?

Another question? You’re wearing me out, young man, but I’ll answer this one before I forget what you asked. If I could stop time, I would. Right now!

Now? Why now? 

Easy Sherlock. If I could stop time now, even with all my aches and pains, while my brain is still working, I could finally do what I’ve always wanted to do but never found time for.

And that is? 

Why write, of course! Doesn’t everybody say at some point that they hope to one day write a book? For me, that time is now! Now is the perfect age to do it: I’ve had tons of experiences, met hundreds of people, had more than my share of the good, the bad and the ugly… in other words, plenty of material for a novel or a memoir or something. You see, while I had my career, my marriage, my children, and in my later years, my parents to look after, I had no time to write. Now I have the motivation, the desire, the knowledge. But, I’m running out of time! And quite frankly, while we’re standing here talking about it, we’re using up what little time I have left. So are we done?

Oh, I’m sorry. I guess so. But…is that why you wear a smart watch on each wrist…so you can keep track of time?

That, my dear Watson, is too complicated an explanation. It’s really very simple. As you’ll find out one day if you have to get rid of your parents’ stuff, we oldies hate throwing anything out, especially if it still works. So when my kids gave me an iWatch for Christmas, what was I supposed to do with a perfectly good Fitbit? I couldn’t just throw it out. So I wear them both! 

Wow…that would make a good story!

Yep! And guess what, Sonny? I think we just wrote that story together. Let’s title it “Time on her hands”.