By the Clock

By the Clock

Esther Shaindy Leshkowitz

Time and tide stop for no man, and scientific theories abound for slowing time down with the aid of a black hole. However, there’s no one who has attempted to speed up time — aside from my mother. Never one to shy away from daunting tasks, and merely scoffing at the impossible, time was but a minor nuisance for her.

It was years ago, when our seven-year-old cousin was staying with our family while his parents were away. Our family consisted of five mostly obedient girls who did what we were supposed to. Bedtime was nonnegotiable, and the stories you hear about last-minute drinks or snacks were unheard of in our home. The established bedtime for our seven-year-old was 6:30.

Our cousin was noncompliant. His mother, he said, allowed bedtime at 8:30, and he refused consider an earlier time. Gentle negotiations failed to produce the desired result, so while the children were at school, my mother moved the clocks forward two hours.

“The clocks are off,” I told her as soon as I got home and saw the clocks, with the assurance that came with being the sole high school attendee in our household.