Just the other day someone made a comment about the fact that I never wear a watch. “That is remarkable” she said, “how do you make it to all of your appointments on time?”
For one moment I traveled back to a long ago event…
I remember it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. I was standing in front of the elevator door watching the numbers light up as it traveled slowly up and then began its descent. One of my best friends was back in the hospital, her stomach full of cancer. I was taking time out from a very busy work schedule, and as I waited I was trying to remember every thing I still had to get done that day. Then, you see, I would know how long I could comfortably spend with her on this particular afternoon.
My watch band broke. My watch slipped off my wrist and fell to the vinyl tile floor and laid there beside my foot. Looking down at it I suddenly felt lost. I bent down, picked it up and held it in my hand, confused for a moment as to what to do next. I was embarrassed. What in the heck was I worried about? How much time did I have? Hell, how much time did she have? What is time?
As I gazed at the broken watch it spoke to me, “This is a gift. Go upstairs and be with her. Time is of no importance.” With a deep sigh, I dropped it into my purse as the elevator door opened in front of me.
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