Because of course, we can never move backwards -
There’s something pretty ominous about the ticking of a clock. Even my digital alarm – I can hear it ticking although I’m not sure if it’s supposed to – breaks the silence in the room. The noise is a little reminder that life keeps moving forward, like a wall falling in between here and what’s happened from one minute ago. There’s really no other alternative but to move on. I can’t even stay in one moment as much as I’d like (I have test scores to prove it).
Every time I have noticed a clock ticking, I’m not in a thrill of a lifetime. I’m by myself, at a doctor’s office (why do they take so long?), or at the point where I’d rather listen to my watch than do whatever I’m supposed to be doing. I remember the cuckoo clock at my babysitter Aunt Dean’s house whenever I had to take a nap. Not a lot of partying happening. It’s a reminder that I don’t look back too much unless I’m forced to stop. And we can’t go back, even if we try. The wall is up, the stones are in place that can never be removed. But at least I know I don’t have to. Whether the moments behind the wall are sentimental or I’d rather just block them with mortar, I’m graced with the human ultimatum of moving on. So these are recordings for the way. Here’s to hope, peace, and joy in the future.
Welcome.
