I Lost My Watch

Callan

 

At home, time hangs over all that I do. Counting down the minutes until the end of a period, timing my arrival at a party so that I'm fashionably late, setting my alarm early enough so that I have enough time to roll out of bed and get to school. Time is always on my mind.

A week ago I lost my watch. Up until that point I had still been engrossed in that man-made measure of where the sun is in the sky, the numbers ticking over, edging closer to lunch, the next activity or the arrival of our train. I was so concerned with time that I found it slipping away.

Now I find myself spending less time staring at my wrist, and more time observing and appreciating what's around me. Amongst all of the incredible people that we've met, and the unforgettable experiences that we've had, my sense of time has become blurred. I've let go of that attachment to time that had been holding me back.

I recognise, however, that this freedom is a luxury that will not last. I cannot hope to escape the rigid and structured nature of the society that we live in. So I hope to savour one more week of disconnectedness - where my days are measured in moments rather than minutes – before I return home and put on my watch again.