It’s the weekend.
I love the weekend. You know... relaxation, downtime, right?
Well, Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese are running a month-long writing challenge. Yes, that's right, twenty eight days of writing, reading and commenting.
February used to always feel so short.
The clock on the wall ticks slowly.
I have to go out in fifteen minutes, but I’m in no hurry.
My lounge is warm, the curtains closed. Shadows huddle together to grumble in the corners of the room beyond the light of the reading light. The art deco lamp, a blur of ceramic and stained glass, is one of three items on the leather-topped table at my elbow.
I relax into the worn leather armchair and find the place in my book, a charming and very quirky tale by Jann Martel called Beatrice and Virgil. A good friend recommended it, and I’ve been enjoying it immensely, as I knew I would.
Ten minutes later, I mark my page with a bookmark, smiling at the oddball tale of literary taxidermy, and pick up my cup of tea; this is the second item on the table. The tea is strong, hot, milky and gently sweet; just how I like it.
I glance at the thin book, now two-thirds complete after several months; I’m a slow reader. Not in an intellectual sense. No, really, I’m not. But I do have bad reading habits, and rarely find time to sit down with a book; there’s always so much to do.
And technically I don’t have much time now.
Except… I do.
The third and final item on the table appears to be an antique hourglass. It looks to be a Georgian contraption of glass, wood and brass. Within it, crystals of iridescent sand trickle oh-too-slowly down. In fact, they more float than trickle, a slow-mo effect betrayed only by some of the grains floating upward or circling chaotically.
And in the air around me, motes of dust barely move in the gaze of the lamp.
Max, my arch-genius best friend, built the hourglass for me, as a present.
It helps me make time to read, in a way that only Max could have thought of.
The clock on the wall ticks very slowly.
I have to go out in fourteen minutes now, but I’m in no hurry.
In fact, I can be here for hours.
Best friends give the best presents.
And the most precious gift you can give is time.
This blog entry is protected by copyright © Indigo Roth, 2013