The Truth About Time by Keysha Whitaker

Time is infinite and finite. It also doesn’t exist. When I was five or six, my uncle, in his trademark wife beater and green factory pants, tried to teach me to tell time. “What time is it?” He’d point to the white round clock on the wall over the stove in my grandmother’s yellow kitchen. I stumbled. I stuttered. “It’s a quarter to three,” he said, explaining the rules of the big hand and the little hand. Nearly twenty years later, at a holiday gathering, I chatted about how quickly the year passed, a traditional New Year’s Eve conversation starter. … Continue reading The Truth About Time by Keysha Whitaker

Detours and Triple Deuces by Keysha Whitaker

I once took Route 1 from Virginia to New Jersey by using a AAA atlas. This was around 2000 – way before Google Maps or the guiding voice of Siri. In my black Dodge Neon, I pulled over periodically to check the way, using my finger to follow the road off the page and onto the next when I crossed state lines. When I finally left the main road for the highway, I felt like I was Lewis or Clark or Jacques Motherfucking Cousteau. Almost twenty years later, when I first moved to Reading, Pennsylvania, I stared at a new … Continue reading Detours and Triple Deuces by Keysha Whitaker

The Danger of Being Overwait by Keysha Whitaker

When I was in high school, I often thought: I can’t wait to graduate and go to college so I can start my life. By my third year in college, I thought: I can’t wait to graduate and get a job so I can start my life. In my first 9 – 5, I’d sit at my desk at lunch and think: I can’t wait until I get married so I can start my life.   I can’t wait until I get the job that I want.   I can’t wait until I get the car that I want. I … Continue reading The Danger of Being Overwait by Keysha Whitaker

Absurd on Wheels by Keysha Whitaker

No sir. Nooooooo sir. I know you did not just park your bike in a parking space. Not your motorcycle. Not your scooter. Not your Vespa. Your bicycle. Two wheels. No motor. Of course, your parking job suggests you’re operating without a motor too . . . Maybe I’m overreacting. Who am I to judge if a man wants to put his kickstand down in front of Walgreens? If he wants to proudly pedal and park his ten-speed right into the center of two faded white lines? Maybe I’m overreacting and being sexist. After all, I don’t know that it … Continue reading Absurd on Wheels by Keysha Whitaker

When chance is a cable bill by Keysha Whitaker

In all the decades I’ve been getting a cable bill, I never read it. If I bothered to open it, I just glanced at the Total Amount Due and shredded it  – after 18 weeks in the junk paper pile. When I started getting electronic bills and went on auto-debit, I didn’t even bother to open the emails. Today, the start of my second month in a new apartment, I receive a bill in the mail since I hadn’t yet signed up for e-bills. I open the letter and thumb through the pages. Package lineups. Old charges. New charges. Terms … Continue reading When chance is a cable bill by Keysha Whitaker

Birds fly low. by Keysha Whitaker

Why do birds fly so low to the ground? Not all the time, just when they’re crossing the street – which is something they do strangely enough pretty regularly, even though they don’t have any feathery business doing so. Fly above the street. Around the street. But don’t cross it, bird. You’re not Big Bird trying to teach six-year-olds social niceties. Roads and lights and crosswalks shouldn’t matter to you. Yet, here you come. Swooping down low from the edge of a fence, diving towards the center of the road, a low-flying dip calculated to beat my car to his … Continue reading Birds fly low. by Keysha Whitaker