“I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved anyone. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over, just like you, ‘I am busy with matters of consequence!โโ, Candice read, as she ignored her father telling her to come with him to the boat. She recalled yesterdayโs fishing trip was a disaster.
โYou might as well go back to the campsiteโ, her father snapped. โFishing takes time and patience; things youโll never have.โ
Candice was indignant, of course; she had patience. Her brother already had caught a fish; she just needed to figure out how to snag the fish on the line and then sheโd get one, too.
โDad, you always say I am too impatient, but weโve been out here for more than a half an hour. Just give me one more chanceโ, she whined, never thinking about how her fatherโs impatience mirrored her own.
He got that look on his face, a little scary, that he had had enough of her, and she turned around and headed back to the camp, to the Little Prince, sure she was right, but knowing that her father wouldnโt back down.
Her father wasnโt the only one who thought that she was impatient. Her mother took her faithfully to therapy for two years. She wasnโt sure why, but at 9 years old, all she had gathered was that she had a condition like ADHD, only, in the 1970โs, girls couldnโt have ADHD, so it must be something else. All she knew was that other people stayed on topic; other people thought things through before speaking; other people could finish what they started.
10 Years laterโฆ
โStop talking so fast! Nobody can understand youโ, the public speaking teacher told her. So, she spoke slowly, like she was suffering from a stroke, time moving imperceptibly for the 2 minutes (or maybe 2 hours?) of the speech on the Economics of the film industry. โPerfect!โ, he announced. โJust remember to speak slowly and youโll pass the class.โ
How could she be expected to slow down? She wasnโt too fast; they were all just so slow.
She needed to say everything in her head before it was too late. Too late for what she would never know, but not having time to say everything, do everything, became the constant fear, with her mind ever shifting from one idea to the next.
Nowโฆ
Every day was too short; Candice constantly rushed. Too many things to do, places to go. In a world full of instant gratification; Google, cell phones, bar codes to order when she wanted without having to wait for a live server, yet she still never had time to finish her thoughts or actions. Her heartbeat constantly racing with anxiety.
โWill I meet the deadline to turn in my work? Wait, wasnโt I supposed to go to the gym today? Christmas is coming in a month, why havenโt I finished shopping for gifts? Why are the windows so dirty; what if a guest came and saw these dirty windows? I must do everything today.โ
The rush of modern life, moving at warp speed didnโt meet her hyperactive needs, it just gave her more things to juggle, all while unable to follow through without losing the thread.
It was no surprise that she was rushing to the train station that day, as usual. Running across the road, she received a text from her boss; โWhen will you have that paper finished? The deadline is coming upโ. She slowed her speed as she crossed the road to give a snarky answer; โI am headed to a meeting, then I will eat, then I will work on the paper. Tonight.โ She looked up, just in time to see the light had changed midway through the crosswalk. Then, out of nowhere, all the wind left her body, and she felt weightless.
Her mind tried to review the past moment, make sense of it all, and as the film of the last minute played, she saw the car approaching her and slamming on the brakes.
Laying there, on the street, she could see people rushing around her, slightly out of focus.
โAre you all right?โ, she heard. She tried to say, โEverything is fine, I need to get to work; theyโre counting on meโ, but she realised it was only in her head. โOh my God, do I need to go to the hospital? I didnโt take a shower; I am wearing dirty underwear! I havenโt finished the Christmas shopping and the deadline for the paper is tomorrow. I canโt go to the hospital. I just need to get my wind back so I can tell them I am fine.โ
She felt them lift her up and onto a gurney, and slide her into the ambulance, โDammit, I donโt have time for this, you idiots. Put me downโ, she tried to tell them. She was especially worried that if she skipped the gym today, then she would get out of practice, gain weight, lose muscle. She desperately needed to go to the gym right now. She felt them shine the light in her eyes.
โConcussion, possible neck fractureโ, she heard them say. She had no time for this.
Days wore on in the hospital. Sometimes Candice was almost conscious, other times stuck in dreams of some place she had to be, but everything still moved through her thoughts at light speed; one subject to the next. The hellish feeling only intensified because she couldnโt do anything that needed to get done immediately. She just kept building the list of things she had to finish when she could finally move and speak.
She heard Sashaโs voice. โI know she is going to recover; she is indomitable; always doing everything. My mother is so strong.โ However, Candice was tired, so tired of being indomitable and strong. The anxiety, the pressure to always do everything, think of everything, always moving at a faster pace than everyone around her was unbearable. Maybe she could just stop. But she knew that her ADHD brain didnโt stop. Ever.
Sasha had brought the children and Candice knew she needed to talk to them. There were so many things to say to them that she kept meaning to tell them. โYou need to try the new Superman flavour at Baskin Robbinsโ, she wanted to tell them. And to Melvin, her grandson, she wanted to say, โItโs okay that you canโt sit still and pay attention; itโs your legacy.โ
She needed to tell Sasha that the windows in her apartment needed cleaning before anyone came over and saw them. Just as she feared, she hadnโt done it quickly enough, before it was too late. Nobody would know her new idea for a story, or about the funny guy she saw sitting across from her on a bus the day before the accident who had his glasses on upside down.
She needed to pray. To apologise to God and change her ways right now.
She wanted to enjoy the feeling of her grandson, Melvin, holding her hand, but all she could think was, โI forgot to tell him how much I love the story he wrote for school.โ
Then suddenly she felt a pressure move from her chest. She felt Melvin holding her hand and she relaxed. She wanted the moment never to end. It was like that feeling right as she was waking up, before the thoughts and to-do list came to her head and she just wanted to relax. She could hear him reading to her, โThis was a merchant who sold pills that had been invented to quench thirst. You need only swallow one pill a week, and you would feel no need of anything to drink. โWhy are you selling those?โ, asked the little prince. โBecause they save a tremendous amount of timeโ, said the merchant. โComputations have been made by experts. With these pills, you save fifty-three minutes in every weekโ.”
Suddenly, she realised that she knew this story. Her thoughts slowed down, slower, slower, no pressure. She squeezed his hand back and knew he was surprised. She remembered this part of the story. Then the tears came, and she spoke with all her effort in a soft whisper.
โAs for me, if I had 53 minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water.โ
She could hear Sasha at the door calling for the nurse; โSheโs speaking, come quick!โ. She could feel the excitement in the air, but for Candice, time slowed. โAh, if it could always be so peaceful!โ, she thought. And the beeps on the machine next to her, she could hear them, beeping their urgent warning slower and slower. She smiled for just a moment. Then, all the rush, all the words and things to do slowly faded away to nothing.
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