The clock sits in front of me, just to my right. I watch it as the minutes spin faster, telling me my time is limited. It will soon be up and I will have to return to the classroom. Children's footsteps echo down the hallway and their little voices fill the long corridors with laughter. People come in and out of the lab, stopping to talk to me, interrupting the flow of thoughts, then sit down just a few feet away. Bangles clang together, keyboards tap out assignments and requests.....and I am at a loss.
Before my feelings were smooth and in my own time. Now they are scheduled, racing against a clock that taunts me. No photographs lay in a folder to help relay my story. No comfy chair to sit in or familiar surroundings to coax my thoughts along. This room is cold and impersonal, like a contemporary refrigerator box and evokes no memories from my mind.....and I am at a loss.
The hands of time tell me when to go. They dictate when I can write, then I am out of the gate; off to speed down the track to get something out there. But nothing comes. I am a stranger here in this space, with everything to say but with no way to say it.
I keep telling myself I'll be back. But for now, I am lost....