Testaments

It might keep you waiting, but it never waits. Time never stops and never returns. Yet it shapes the world and defines our lives. It is the one constant that is tied to everything, moving on without pause, silent but relentless.

We talk about health, money, success, and love as if they’re the big players in life. But strip them down, and they all depend on time. Without enough of it, health can’t be restored, money can’t grow, success can’t be built, and love can’t deepen. Time is the foundation. And like all foundations, it’s easily overlooked, until… it’s gone!

Walk into any waiting room and you’ve entered a silent play. No one bought tickets and yet here we are, actors and an accidental audience rolled into one. The set is simple: padded chairs, a coffee table, a stack of outdated magazines, and maybe a plant that’s seen better days. But the real show isn’t the decor. It’s the faces.

There’s the leg-bouncer, foot tapping like they’re auditioning for a speed metal band. Across from them, the Phone Absorbed, locked in battle with Candy Crush, looking up only when someone calls their name. Then you have the Deep Sighers, who want everyone to know they’ve been waiting forever, which is…10 minutes, to be precise.

If you have to think about which hand goes where, maybe just stick to waving. I’ve had firmer handshakes than some of the hugs I’ve received. And they never stop coming. Have you ever been hugged with the energy of someone trying not to spill their coffee? Yeah, that. The art of the almost-hug isn’t new. It’s just consistently confusing.

There’s a very specific choreography to the almost-hug. One hand lands somewhere around your shoulder. The other drifts downward and rests, for some reason, on your stomach. Or worse, just above it, telling you not to come any closer. The emotional equivalent of clicking “remind me later”. And you go like “Do I look like a Windows update?”. But it doesn’t end there. After they’re done with this gesture hug, they pat. They always pat. Like you’re a dog who did a decent job sitting still. I am just glad most of them don’t have cookies on them.

I like to think I’m not controlled by anything. But when it comes to the Ctrl key on my laptop, I surrender. This tiny button controls a surprising amount of my daily life.

Take work, for instance. The effort I put in? Cut down significantly thanks to this little savior. Copy, paste, undo, select all. It’s a champion. No doubt about it.

It is a fool’s dream, but superheroes really do exist. Not all heroes wear capes, true. Some wear polished dents. My little friend wears it proudly.

It never gets tired. Maybe it does, but it never complains. I’ve never heard it ask for recognition. Just sits there, ready, every single time I reach for it, which I do hundreds of times a day. I hope it’s not true, but there are times I feel like I am a cruel master.

I don’t usually listen to them. Chairs, I mean. But some of them do talk. There is this one in my office. Missing its armrests, buried in dust and grieving in silence. It had watched me for weeks. And finally, I watched back.

Strange, the things furniture can say when we’re still enough to hear. Good thing I gave it that moment.

Join me in a playful reflection on how we treat the things around us, and what they might think of us in return.