First word: Suzanne Roberts: Time has left me alone

 Time left me alone, when I left it alone.

I leave it alone almost every day for a while when I “lose” my telephone around the house or in the pocket of a bag. And I can’t call the phone because I always forget to put the ringer on.

The kitchen clock helps me hold time at arm’s length. It’s set ahead a seemingly unknown number of minutes, and I always undercalculate them to my advantage. The clock meant to help me be early, makes me late. Still, there’s a pleasing condescension in leaving it inaccurate: a clock out of time is somewhat pathetic, a clock keeping precise time is intimidating.

Sometimes time plays with me. Washing the dishes takes seven minutes, when I expect it to take 20. Typing up my writing takes 45 minutes, when I expect it to take 10. I can drive to work in eight minutes on a Sunday, but it takes an hour and a quarter on a weekday afternoon.

Time is like a tiger breathing down my neck at the back, making it sweaty and sticky, forcing me to clench my jaw and curl my fingers.

“Leave me alone, Time,” I cry.

“Fine, if that’s what you really want,” it says. So, I alone become unaffected by it and life as I knew becomes impossible. There is no growing up, passing through stages, living with the same group of friends and lovers. Children grow old. No relationship can last longer than a few years without my turning to paranoia, suspecting they are onto me. Once again time is bothering me again, simply by not being there.

No, time won’t leave anyone alone. Anyone or anything – the wine and cheese get better until they become drastically worse.

Who can make peace with time and how do they do it?