All the Time in the World

Puffed, I plop down on the curb at the top of Clinton Hill. Take in the view of Mt. Tam shrouded in misty fog, grey elephant clouds hover closer to home.

            See the couple toddle down the hill toward me. An elder man and his wife. I know they’re married. They look the same. Same round bodies. Same sturdy legs. Same yellow windbreakers. Same Pandemic face masks?

            This is new. Everyone, well not everyone, but many walkers now are donning these. They creep me out. As DL says, "They are the manifestation of all of our fears and anxieties." Plus, do we really need to be wearing them outside? When I might only run into half a dozen other walkers in 45 minutes? Is the Virus floating in the air where no one has been?

            I see this couple every day on my morning walks. They always wave to me. He does first, then she follows suit. Today he grins, and waves. “You okay?” he asks, amiably concerned.

            “Oh, yeah, just tired,” I holler. (They’re well beyond the 6-foot social distance rule)

“How are you two doing this morning?” I continue.

            Broadly he grins. I can see it underneath his mask. Or feel it. “We’ve got all the time in the world!” he proclaims, waving his arm broadly at the expansive grey horizon.

            “I should be working,” I respond, thinking how really, I should be. Papers to grade. Piano lessons to plan. Carpets to vacuum.

            I can tell he’s slightly perplexed. Isn’t everyone off work now? But they march on down 36^th street. I watch their yellow windbreaker flapping in the breeze.

            All the time in the world? Yet, do they? They must be in their 70s or even 80s. They certainly don’t have ALL the time in the world, right? Yet, because of the pandemic with everyone home, it must seem like there’s all the time in the world. Time has slowed down. It’s because folks are having to fill their time with activities that aren’t work. What are they doing?

            Walking? Well, a few are, but frankly, I don’t see that many out.

            Working from home? Yes, many are doing this, though many aren’t.

            Watching Netflix? Okay, but I never can find anything. It’s either too violent or too juvenile.

            So, all of that time…it’s there to spend, but yet…it’s also the most precious of commodities. You can never get it back. It zooms by. I feel as though I’m always chasing time. I never have enough time. Damn, there must be some good time quotes on Goodreads. Let me find one for you: “Time is the longest distance between two places.”

      Leave it to Tennessee Williams to stop me in my tracks. What does it mean? We have no places now. We’re all stopped in place. In our homes. In our neighborhoods. No one can go anyplace, let alone two places. If you think about it, what two places could he mean? The place that we are and the place we will be? Or the place we are now and the place we have been?

                I have no idea. All I do know is that time is of the essence. A cure or containment of this Virus must happen soon. Time is not on our side. It ravages and scorns us.

                What will become of us? Time will tell.

                I get up off the curb, begin my stomp back home. It’s time I got to work. That’s the place I need to go.