What if my time is warped somewhere, and I don’t know it? The rest of you should be having only 24 hours in a day, but I could be having 32 I guess. God must be adding another mysterious hour in-between my hours. Because guess what? I always seem to have time.
Once, whenever someone posed a question in the group chat, my fingers would be the first to type in a response, because I don’t like putting people on hold. In that mysterious hour God adds into my hours, I will call and text back, remember and reach out.
I’m big on planning dates, and I’m big on showing up in them too. Like arriving an hour earlier at the cinema (call it that mysterious hour), and eventually staring at the big screen with empty seats on either sides of me, because they apologized again, busy and caught up, they couldn’t find time. Of course I’ll understand, they only have 24 hours, I have 32 or more.
Call me up at 1am, and I will write a song for you, because I have more hours till the morning comes, more than you do. So of course I’ll understand a professor who when you call at 5pm for a request of a recommendation letter, they will tell you you’re ruining the time they are spending with their family. And put their phones close to their children and ask you again if you hear the soft and playful crash of the building blocks. “I’m with my kids, do you hear me?” and I sheepishly answer “I do.”
Time, what a strange phenomenon.
I won’t even pretend to know the answers. Of who in your life deserves it and who doesn’t, even at all there’s such a thing as deserving one’s time.
Maybe my time isn’t warped after all, maybe I just need to find a job, it might win me the 24 hours rhythm.
Until then (and I bet even after it) I’m happy to have the mysterious hour God adds in-between my hours. I’ll make time for you, I mean it.