The Longing

I sat in my chair staring at the clock on the wall next to the entrance of the office. Only two more hours to go until time to clock out, lock up, and head home. The best part of the day really.

Business has been slow these last couple of days and time seems to stand still. The second hand seems to be taking longer pauses on every tick. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick… tock. Tick…, my mind is drifting to another place. The addiction of my phone no longer satisfies.

Day after day. The same old job. Nothing seems to change. Nothing new or exciting ever happens in this place. Tick… tock, tick… tock. Tick…, My mind is numb from the silence. Monitoring an old run-down storage facility was not my first choice for a job.

I remember a time when I would have given anything for my old band to be on tour with a couple of some of my favorite artists. I haven’t thought about being in a band in a long time. It was in one of these very units that we came day after day to pour our hearts out on our instruments longing for the day our dreams would come true.

I can’t remember whatever happened to that old band. It’s amazing how you can think of a time from the past and all the glory days of your youth and wonder, where has the time gone, but in the present moment, waiting on the last two hours of work to pass and feel like they last an eternity.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. The second hand of the clock is the only action I’ve seen all day and the other two hands, seem to be broken. My eyes are starting to burn from boredom. I can’t wait to be out of here! I have already cleaned this place so many time the paint is starting to come of the walls and floor.

I start to think about all the things I’m going to do when I get home. Laundry. Maybe some dinner while watching an old movie. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a root beer float while kicking back in my lazy-boy. When I get out of here it will be too dark outside to do much else.

I don’t really have much of a night life. At my age, I am ready for bed around nine or nine-thirty. When I think about it, it’s not much more exciting than being here at work to be honest. And yet, even though I am getting paid to be here there is something about being at work all day that drains the soul.

I think I just saw the minute hand move. Either that or my mind is starting to slip, and I am seeing things. The crazy thing is that as soon as I get home the clock will start to speed up and my time of enjoyment, rest and recovery will feel cut short at the moment my alarm goes off.

My heart begins to feel empty thinking about how I must be back here tomorrow. To give my entire day to watching the clock once more. I guess someone has to make sure it doesn’t lose time. Oh wow! The time I’ve lost to this place. And for money I can’t seem to hold onto. Everything’s going up but the pay.

I am torn between wanting time to speed up so I can go home and at the same time not wanting any of it to slip away because life is precious. At the moment, getting off early would be priceless. The money I make is definitely not worth the amount of precious life I trade for it.

Maybe I will pull out my old guitar this evening, put some strings on it and beat the dust of it with some of those old licks I use to play. My chops may be kind of rusty, but the nostalgia of reliving better times is a drug I need to cope with the mundane. Oh, if I could do it all over again, the things I would do different.

The adventures I would live! If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t let fear scare me away this time. Even if I failed. Even if it didn’t turn out the way I would have hoped by taking the chance it would sure be better than sitting at this desk waiting on time to pass only to blink and be back here in the next day to trade time for a bit of change.

Working nine to six, day after day. Is this all there is? Have I missed my chance to live the life I’ve dreamed. Am I too old to take a new risk or live out a new adventure? Even if I thought I still had it in me to get up and walk out of this place, where would I go? And with the high-level income I make I don’t imagine I would get very far before I am looking for another nine to six.

How did I end up here? How did I ever let this happen? How could I have ever let fear get the best of me. How could I let it steal so much time, adventure, and life from me? Life I will never get back! How could I just hand over my dreams in exchange for the simple life. The lesser risk and the play it safe kind of life. I once read that fear emasculates greatness.

As I sit here in my chair thinking about what could have been and pondering the past. My soul feels heavy, and my heart feels empty and dry. My office can’t be any better than a prison cell with the illusion of making a living. What kind of living is this? My immediate longing is for the clock to strike six so I can go home and enjoy just being without the demand of being in one place.

Of course, I won’t go anywhere. I have been trained to stay put from the habit I developed at my job. This is what it has taught me. This is what I’m trained to do, just exist until I am no more. And who will be next after me? Should I leave clues or notes around the office. Maybe a map or a way of escape? A warning of some kind inked in code.

Two more minutes and I’m out of here! Time taunts me! I thought I just saw the second hand go backwards a couple of ticks.

Finally, six O’ clock! I am free! The moment I have been waiting for ever since the day began. It’s over! I can go home. My body instantly develops an overwhelming amount of energy and like lightening I change the sign to close and lock the front door. Now who has the last laugh clock?! I’m free!

Just as I was about to leave, I could have sworn I heard the clock whisper behind my back, You’ll be back… Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock