I miss Grandma’s clocks. I was thinking of them the other day. She and Grandpa had so many, and that ticking was the most familiar thing about their home. She lives with her daughter now, when it’s warm, and her son in Florida when it is cold. I don’t know how many of the clocks she took with her. The sound of those clocks was so calming. It made the passing of time seem rhythmic, more like the soundtrack to life than the foreboding of its end.
Last week, time stressed me out. I always wanted the work day to end. Then when it did, I couldn’t focus on what I most wanted to do next. The minutes just kept happening, and I kept wishing I had made better use of them.
Jake had a cold, so instead of going to yoga class one night I stayed home and did it alone. Jake was tucked in watching a movie. The sounds of his animated feature were slightly less centering than the instrumental CDs I’m used to in class. So instead, I focused on the clock. Grandma had such beautiful ones, and mine is just from Walmart. So I was surprised that it had the same calming click – if I listened closely enough. Once I listened for it, I began to feel the seconds passing even when I couldn’t hear them. That’s what I stretched to, and it felt so good to move with time instead of against it.
This week I’m going to choose more moments like that. And it seemed like a Monday kind of thing, to say so.