Time to spare

TIME TO SPARE.
I hear you calling to me, your voice is plaintive, concerned, full of worry. I'm caught up, tied, unable to yield to the niggle in my head that tells me to respond to you. I have no time to spare.
My day goes on and on. Work, so much work, kids, school, meals. I will write tonight. Really I will. I have no time to spare.
I take the dog for a walk and as I move along beside the sea, I feel again
the magnetic pull of your need. I must write to you when I get in. I have no time to spare

I'm just about to write. I'm sitting in front of the computer screen poised to begin when I'm invaded
by my neighbour. How long she sits, an hour? Two? On and on she drones. I make endless cups of coffee. Watch as the ashtray signifies the length of her overstayed welcome. I watch mesmerised as one more butt gets sqidged out into the unyielding glass. Is it an uncharitable though to wish momentarily that it was her butt? She tells me Jesus is in the house, asks me if I can feel his presence. I refrain from rolling my eyes, just. I find myself thinking "Well if he is, I wish he'd realise it's time to go and take you with him." I berate myself for these uncharitable thoughts towards a pleasant if extremely irritating neighbour.
My eyes are drooping as she leaves. How many yawns had I tried to suppress? She's gone but the essence of her remains, I empty the ashtray, and clear away the debris of the scintillaitingless coffee evening.
I'll write to you when I've let the dog out. But I look at the sky, the stars have reached their zenith and my eyes are heavy and dull. I hear you calling me, but the call of my bed is louder, more raucous. It becomes a sweet seductive lullabye. I have no time to spare.

The sheets are cool and fresh. I relax. The bed is soft and comfortable. I take my book for my usual few minutes read before turning the light out. But I can't concentrate. My friend is not happy. It worries me. I mull over your problems add them to my own, and my head begins to spin. Tomorrow! I'll write tomorrow. I have no time to spare.
I roll over and turn off the lamp. The pillows curl to caress my head. I close my eyes and begin to drift and I think of your sadness. The computer is flashing at me.The screen saver turning itself inside out to get my attention. I have no time to spare.
I'm annoyed, disgruntled. Feeling guilty and shamed. My friend needs me.

Now I HAVE time to spare. Because I know that when I need a friend to lean on &;#8230; you will have time to spare for me.