For all his life, Frank had been at war with the willows. They sprouted in and around the stream, clogged the irrigation ditches, and choked off the water flow.
His land, a narrow plain between
...
[+]
There are approximately seventy-two seconds left until everything that we've ever known will come to an end.
I am sitting on the floor in front of my living room sofa, listening to the quiet hum of the television as I mindlessly watch the countdown on the screen. How kind of them, to make sure every channel displays the clock which has counted down, on and on, for the last four days, coming closer to the dreaded zero. I'm not entirely sure who "them" is in this situation, but given that there are now only seventy-one seconds left, I clearly don't have time to give it much thought. There are more important things to do—so many things and never enough time.
The sink is leaking in the other room. I hear the small plunk of a water droplet hitting the bottom of the sink every two seconds. I rarely noticed the sound before and when I did I hated it... but now I just think it sounds like home.
Home. The small house I'd inherited from my mom when she passed, a little over a year ago now. Her paintings still decorate the walls; I've always appreciated them, but never as I do now. How wonderful is it, that she painted pieces of her soul across dozens of paintings and gifted them to me? Her love exists in the yellow-ochre paint used to dot the petals of hundreds of imaginary dandelions hanging in a frame above my television.
In seventy seconds I'll meet her again. I can only hope it will be in a field like that.
But I don't want to leave yet—there's so many things I still have to do. I never got my dream career, never got married, never had any children. Those were always goals I cared so much about when I was younger, but now they seem so far away and so little. In truth, I stopped caring about these things the moment the countdown began. The moment I realized I was running out of time.
There are sixty-seven seconds left until I've run out of time.
Now that I know when, where, and how I am going to die, I stopped caring about some far away future. I stopped regretting all the things I could have done. None of it really matters anyway.
What matters is that I am running out of time to do the things I always do.
I'm running out of time to admire mom's paintings. I'm running out of time to go on morning walks with my dog, to watch the bees stop at every purple flower. I'm running out of time to listen to my favorite songs or enjoy a hot cup of coffee. I'm running out of time to take in the way the sun shines through the clouds on a summer day and I'm running out of time to watch as the first snow falls in the winter.
When it happens, will there be time for my life to flash before my eyes?
There are sixty-three seconds left until it happens.
I'm running out of time to laugh at my own jokes. I'm running out of time to dance and I'm running out of time to eat a meal made by someone I love. I'm running out of time to take my niece to the movies. I'm running out of time to buy gifts for everyone I've ever loved and I'm running out of time to think of everything I need to do.
There's so much I still have left to do.
There are fifty-nine seconds left.
I've already gone out and seen everyone I could. I gave everyone I've ever met a call to tell them they meant something to me, but I need to do it all again because this isn't enough.
Dad's visiting mom's grave right now. I should have gone with him. No, if I'd gone I wouldn't have had the time—
God, I wish I could have gone with him one more time.
There are fifty-four seconds left.
I need to go out with friends for drinks again. I need to pet my dog again. I need to smell the earth just after it rains again. I need to sing in the shower again. I need to, I need to, I need to.
I need to do it all again.
The final time will never be enough.
There are forty-eight seconds left.
I can't keep sitting here. I need to go feel the sun on my face and listen to the birds, obliviously singing together in their last moments.
I wish I had someone to sing with. To dance with. To cry with.
But I've already said all my goodbyes.
There are forty-one seconds left.
There are traffic sounds outside my window. So many people have been trying to leave. Parents wanting to get out to see their kids and their grandkids. Everyone's just trying to go home.
But they don't have enough time.
Strangers are hugging each other on the streets, wanting anything but to be alone. All around the world, people are seeing each other for the first time.
And they've only got thirty-three seconds left.
I can't keep doing this—staring at the countdown. What a waste of time. That's all there's left to waste.
All my life, I've been wasting time.
There's so much left to do and to do again and again. I need to wake up safe in my bed tomorrow morning. I need to do it the day after tomorrow too. And the day after that.
I want to listen to the floorboards creak beneath my feet. I'd never even envisioned that as something to want before.
I need to cook a meal for someone. Anyone, really. Just so long as I can do it again.
I want to listen to the rain while I read and I want to play with my dog in the morning, watching her tail wag happily before it all ends.
It's not fair. It's not fair for any of this to be the last time.
There are twenty-eight seconds until I'm out of time.
God, there's not enough time!
Tears roll down my cheeks and I feel that they are hot. This can't be the last time I'll ever cry. There's still so much more to cry over... and I'll never have enough time. I need to cry for all the people I've never met, for all the creatures who don't know their lives will be over in less than a minute and for all the ones that do and don't have time to grieve.
There are only twenty-four seconds left!
Sitting on the couch above me, I feel something cold and wet push against my face. I turn away from the television for a moment to see my sweet, sweet girl, Fiona, tilting her head at me. Her pointed ears are perked up and her umber eyes look down at me with a curious expression. She knows something is wrong.
A sob catches in my throat but tumbles out as a scream, filled with only the most destructive kind of despair.
I made steak for her at noon, knowing it would be the last meal she'd ever eat. I wonder now, did I make it good enough? I hope, as she devoured her last treat, she could taste how much I love her.
She knows I love her, right?
Please, let her know. Let her know from how I coo her name every day when I get home, how I smile at her when I enter a room, how—
Without thinking, I glance back at the television, at the countdown.
There are only fourteen seconds left.
Fourteen seconds.
And then it's all gone.
All of this is gone.
My sobs stop and I am frozen.
All of this is going to be gone in only a matter of seconds.
I'm never going to laugh with my brother again, never going to tell my dad I love him again, never going to feel the grass between my toes again...
There's so much left to do but there's only—
There's only three seconds left.
And I'm just sitting here, wasting all the time I don't have.
I cup my dog's face in my hands and coo her name before petting the top of her head. She leans forward, pressing into my palm.
I have so little time and I am wasting it all on the thought of wasting time.
I would turn off the television, destroy the countdown... but there isn't enough time.
I turn away from the TV entirely, facing Fiona as I continue to pet her.
The past is gone and there is no future. This is all that matters.
And as of now, I have all the time in the world.
