“Just ten more minutes,” I groan as I turn off the alarm and crawl back into my den of covers.
“I need ten more minutes,” I implore to no one as I try to put on a shoe while brushing my teeth and making coffee.
“It would be so nice to have ten more minutes,” I long wistfully as students approach my door and look upon our unfinished schedule.
“I don’t have ten more minutes,” I urge as I will the copy machine to work faster. That was the lunch bell.
“I’ll leave in just ten minutes,” I sigh to my husband. He’s waiting for us to leave town, but I have to finish this email.
“Give me ten minutes,” I plead cheerfully to my friends who have already arrived for dinner.
“Ten more minutes,” I declare as I trudge through some reading before finally closing my eyes.
Someday my time will be over. I wonder if I’ll be peaceful, satisfied. I have a suspicion that I’ll try to cram in more life. As always, thinking, “If only there were ten more minutes…”