Tick-tock

 “Tick-tock, tick-tock.” Betty glanced at the clock hanging on the wall with its insipid timekeeping. She folded her hands and looked down at them. She almost couldn’t recognize her skin folded over stretched tendons; it looked as worn out as she felt. It was a mottled purple and brown, almost translucent. Her fine hair was white and carefully curled, and she’d dressed in her favorite purple, flowery pantsuit for her important End-of-Life ceremony. With every tick of the clock she was closer to her ceremony, and she truly had no idea how she could make such a drastic choice with only minutes left to ponder her options. 

 

Oh, what a curse the clock was! How frustrating that it never sped up or slowed down when she wanted it to. It only continued, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock; its monotonous voice mocking her life. 

 

Not that her life was something necessarily to be mocked. She’d had a wonderful life. She had married a good man who loved her until the end of his life, raised three kids who still visited her in the nursing home (and not from obligation), and she thoroughly enjoyed herself over the years. She’d gone to work motivated and laid her head on her pillow worn out. It was a good life.

 

But. There’s always a but, isn’t there? She’d had a good life. But she didn’t have it with Him. Yes, she had a good husband, and yes, she loved him. But there was another man, whom she’d known since she was a child. For various reasons, the planets had never aligned, and they’d never gotten their “happily ever after” together, although they did live quite happily. She’d heard He was finishing His life soon as well.

 

“Tick-tock, tick-tock.” In just a few moments, she’d attend her ceremony. How strange that only two generations ago, people hadn’t known what transpired after death. She couldn’t decide whether that would be positive or negative. At this point, she’d almost rather face the unknown than to have to make such decisions. Regardless, she’d have to choose where she wanted to start again this time. She couldn’t remember her last choice, but she had a feeling she was always this indecisive.

 

“Tick-tock, tick-tock.” As the second hand circled the clock, she was reminded that she had very little time to choose at which point to start again. Just last week, she was talking to Don, and he knew exactly when he would choose. “I’ve been counting down the days for twenty years!” he’d said, excitedly, launching into a description of his first time driving a car.

 

Should she choose birth and start from the very beginning? Or should she choose the day she was six, and fell off her bike and skinned her knee? She could feel the pain of that moment, but she could also remember looking up into His green eyes for the first time as he held out His hand to help her. Or should she choose a safe, undeniably happy moment, such as the birth of her first child? Should she risk a hard life to make different choices? Like the time He stared at her, tears in His eyes, from the pew as she stood in front of the church during her wedding. Should she choose Him? Or should she choose the path already laid out that progressed like clockwork? Was romance better than goodness? Oh, what should she choose?

 

“Tick-tock, tick-tock.” 

 

“Betty?” the pretty young nurse walked in. “It’s time now! You must be so excited,” the nurse said, absentmindedly as she pushed Betty’s wheelchair out the doorway into a long, carpeted hallway toward the conference hall. 

 

As Betty was wheeled away, she heard one final declaration of the clock before she started over: “Tick-tock, tick-tock.” It was time to go around again.