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Sunny Side Up Jan. 2, 2002 �2001 by Kathleen Gibson On Backward Clocks and Forward Looks Something strange is underfoot at our house. One of our clocks is marching boldly where no Gibson clock has gone before. Rick discovered it first. �This clock is going backwards!� His bass voice skidded towards soprano. �No way.� �It�s true, come and see. Bet someone put the battery in wrong.� He pried open the back of the clock to check. Positive to positive�no foolery there. He took out the battery and applied all his technological expertise. (That means he shook the clock and put it back together exactly the way it was.) The hands obediently reversed�for about thirty seconds. The clock has been in reverse ever since. If I start a half-hour task at 2:30, I�m done by 2. I begin dinner at 7:30 and we�re eating by 6. It�s made me incredibly efficient�the wonderwoman I always wished to be. And it�s made me ask �what if�? What if I could really turn back the clock? What if I could live my last hour over again? What would I change? I never have to think long. There�s always something, something, I would do differently. I would use that spare ten minutes for that small task I keep putting off. I wouldn�t put that in my body. I would take five minutes to reflect before that encounter. I would run outside for a gulp of fresh air. I would hug her good-bye. I would do the loving thing, instead of the �right� thing. I would say yes. I wouldn�t have spoken so quickly, assumed so much. It�s no wonder we want a fresh start each New Year�s. Looking over our shoulder at our used-up-years we�re confronted by a stockpile of hours, each complete with its own particular �could�a, should�a, would�a�s�. It�s a life-debt we can never pay, a debt to the self we wish we had been. Far easier to start again, and many try�every January 1st. Financial planners tell us to keep short accounts, to pay our debts as we go�weekly, monthly, yearly. Get into the habit, they say, and soon it will become a way of life. My renegade clock reminds me to do the same with my time. My life-debt doesn�t look so impossible if it�s only ankle deep�a moment or an hour. Sometimes I can go back. Some things can be undone. I can apologize for not thinking before I spoke. I can run outside now and enjoy the breeze in my hair. I can hug her hello when she comes back. I can call and say I�ve reconsidered. Time is the most precious commodity we will ever be granted. No one owns it. No one can kill it. It marches forward, whether or not my little desk clock conforms. All I�m permitted to do is use it. I pray, wisely. At the start of this year, I wish you the resolve to keep your life-debts short, payable every hour, every day. And perhaps a backwards clock to remind you. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |
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