The library clocktower is visible from the bathroom window, emerging from the morning condensation, red brick bright against the sky. You can hear the bells for every hour in any room in the apartment.
I used to count them carefully, letting time be something that came to me, not something I ever sought out.
I liked it — the bells. They were comforting, a reminder of a time before iPhones and other digital devices. It reminded me how lucky I am to live by the library, for its sound to infiltrate my home 24 times a day.
But something shifted, a few weeks ago. I found that I had a creeping sense of foreboding with each chime, that a wave of anxiety would flourish as I tentatively waited for the final bell, to know truly how much of the day was gone and how quickly the hours were ticking away. The later times were the worst; I could swing into deep despair by the time the clock struck 12, counting down until I was consumed by anxiousness, and the following hour would be doomed as well.
I don’t know what it is that prompted this shift; is it that the clock heralds something else, or my fear is a symptom of a bigger problem, a change in mentality that has affected the way I perceive everything?
To make my peace with it, I go into the library. I collect my new books, I return the stack that has been sitting on my bedside table for more days than I care to admit. I let the clock chime, hear the sound reverberate within the stone walls, within me. I let the time flow, sink into its relativity (how it vanishes when I have a book in my hands, how it hurries when I am running late for work), remind myself that to be freeis to be ungoverned by time. I pick up a book, and I am too engrossed to hear the heralding of the next hour. It is a surprise to me that the darkness has descended outside, the library is filling up with high school students coming in to study for the evening.
I walk the 1 minute back to the apartment to prepare dinner. I look forward to hearing the next bells, grateful that this is my home, grateful for the hours and the gradual unspooling of time out ahead.
