The vents buzzed softly with the sound of the air slowly cooling the house. The dog slept lazily on the couch, his paws twitching as he dreamt of some chase or other excitement he rarely got to partake in. Not because he was too old (although his fur definitely shined with silver), but because three children had followed his adoption into the family and they received most of the woman’s energy. Time took a moment to stroke his ears, and he rolled onto his back ever so slightly, pleased with her touch, not fully waking but hoping for a full-on rub down. She appeased him for a minute or two, and then got up to continue her tour of the house. She felt like a potential home buyer secretly spying on other people’s lives as she meandered through their home…peeking into closets and behind the glass of every picture frame on display. She loved looking into people’s personal lives. (Although their future realtor would certainly not approve.)
But the man had heard her. Her heart beat faster with the excitement of having made a change in someone’s life. Listening to her that day – during the most vulnerable time in his life…she shivered as she recollected it. His life was different because of what she had said to him. He had heard, and was willing to change. The definition of “listening.”
After that day, the man had influenced the woman…sort of, at least. Time loved when they stirred her into their coffee, releasing its swirling cloud of steam, or when they allowed her to warm her cold hands beside a crackling fire. Her favorite moments, however, were when they built her into a Lego design with the two boys or breathed life into the baby’s dolly. Hygge. Or, even better, when they offered their hands to serve. But she was still often forgotten, especially by the woman, and it made Time hate her own invisibility. The woman fought the clock and the clock too often won. Why? Sticky floors…squats and sweat…organization and putting away. Sigh. Meanwhile, the baby grabbed her pant legs, the dog looked at her hopefully every time she walked toward the door, and the chalk from the four square game faded on the driveway.
Time spread herself across their bed, then drew herself a hot bath, languishing in the empty house and reflecting on her own existence. Why did she exist? When did her own life begin? When would it end? She had an inkling she was tied to the material world. The man and woman, their universe, the icebergs and sequoias, the comets and stars…they all needed her. But deep down, she knew that one day, in “forever,” she would float away to some forgotten place and she would no longer matter.
She jerked from her daydream to the sound of an automated voice in the bedroom announcing “Kitchen door” and the woman shouting reminders: Don’t forget to fill in your reading log. Let the baby play and please stop fighting. Babes, I know we both need a break but can we just clean up the kitchen first? Quickly, Time pulled open the drain and spread the bath toys back across the floor of the tub, the way they had been when she had granted herself the gift of relaxation, and smoothed out the bedspread. There…tracks covered.
She crept downstairs as quietly as possible, although there really was no need because there was no way she would be heard over the chaos. If she couldn’t be seen, and wouldn’t be heard, she’d have to find another way. A book lay spread eagle across the banister, precariously balanced to mark a page partway through the first chapter. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs until the muscles stretched and she felt slightly dizzy, and as the woman walked by, baby clinging to her clothing, Time blew with all her strength. The pages rippled with the force of her breath and the book wavered ever so slightly, but didn’t fall.
The woman halfway glanced at it in confusion, but then the doorbell rang and the barking and race to the door snatched her back into the chaos.
Time plopped herself back on the couch, where she knew the dog would eventually snuggle up next to her again. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.