The Self Appointed Time Police
“What have you been up to?” they ask. I think what they’re really asking is, “What are you working on?” They expect me to tell them that I’m dealing with some heavy trauma, redoing my kitchen, or trying to write the great American novel. It’s a test to see if I’m doing anything constructive or important. It’s as if they want me to come up with something substantial enough to justify my existence. Complaining about something big would probably also satisfy them. Itemizing how I fill my minutes and hours and days would be even better. They become confused when I don’t list a bunch of things, or anything big. I can see the cognitive dissonance, or a possible glitch in the matrix, when I appear to have no need to pass their test. They might actually enjoy hearing about how I talk to people in shops on both sides of the counter. How I smell flowers and take photos simply for enjoyment. How I write my thoughts for my own benefit and any benefit they might bring to others. Sure, I’m quietly waiting to see when my mother will die and how quickly her dementia will advance. I’m walking to keep myself healthy. I’m trying to eat well by choosing and cooking local, organic food. I’m spending time with friends. I’m spending a lot of quality time alone. I’m reading books and watching movies and bingeing series. I’m taking care of the new small needs my older body presents to me. I’m helping friends with major changes in their lives. I’m talking on the phone with my son about his life and mine and this weird world we live in. I’m laughing about my own idiosyncrasies — the ones I share with many others and the ones that only a few know about. I’m congratulating myself for washing my dishes, and for taking out my trash, recycling, and compost. I’m finding perfectly sized containers for my leftover food. I’m trying to find a way to enjoy doing the little bit of PT that makes my life better. I’m asking Siri to play new to me music that I can dance to. I’m celebrating the soft wind that blows in warmer weather. I’m getting excited when I get a good night’s sleep. I pat myself on the back every time I drink a glass of water. I sigh with anticipated pleasure when I add raisins and coconut purée to the jasmine rice I cook in the rice cooker. But instead, I say, “Oh, you know, I’m writing and walking and cooking and hanging out with friends.” And then I smile as I watch them become confused by my lack of shame and astonished by the lack of a working hamster wheel in my life.
Cinse Bonino
2024
