I'm Sorry the Clock Won

September 30, 2008
By Anonymous

The seconds are racing, the minutes are chasing behind, and the hours are eternities. The clock is my father’s enemy and my annoyance because every movement of her hands means my father losing seconds, minutes, and hours that he can never regain...But my hopes are still higher than God because fathers have to come and rescue their children from their skepticism right? Tick; He has to be close by… right around the corner. Tock. He has to be coming. The next car has to be him...Tick…or maybe the next one...Tock…but the next car is definitely my dad coming to put my doubts to rest, telling me that the clock is wrong because we have all the time in the world. Tick.

So I continue to look up the street from my window, anticipating his arrival. Tock. I wait with my sister, who only goads my hopefulness. Tick. My mother keeps telling me that I should change my clothes, watch some TV, play a game even, but I don't hear her…I do not want to hear her. Tock. There is no point because the next car looks just like his! ...Tick...I think it's slowing down!...Oh…in front of another house... Tock. Guess that's not him. Tick. It's fine…next one. He’ll be in the next car, waltz right into my life and quieting my uncertainty. Tock.

He never came. Tick. He never called. Tock. He never said sorry. Tick. And he lives five minutes away. Tock. He never told me why he never came. Tick.

And I cried.

I cried because I had to grow up. I cried because my ego was bruised...Tick. I cried because the clock was right. He would never be on time and he could never reclaim the time it took to crush his little girl’s dreams. Tock. I wish the clock would just stop rubbing it in… You win…

Goodnight daddy.

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