CLOCK

I have a new clock. It isn’t really new, just new to me. It looks a little like a fan, or maybe a windmill, with twelve small gray metal blades in a circle, and at its center, the clock face. My own face tells time, but I will think about that tomorrow. Tonight I’m too sleepy. The second hand is long and sharp as a needle, the other two are delicate, fragile looking, with a strange design I can’t describe. The Roman Numerals have faded, like me, but it is just now eleven o’clock, reminding me it’s bedtime. Good to know. It is easy to forget time in the dark. Tomorrow is Hallloween. Maybe I will go as a clock. No costume needed.

Thank you, strange clock. Thank you for your service. I fell in love the minute I saw you. My sister Judy gave you to me. She has an antique store. She didn’t know where you came from or who put you together or how old you are. How old are you, clock? It’s pretty clear you’ve been at this a long time. Now it is five past eleven which added together makes you sixteen, for sixty seconds, twice a day..I know this makes no sense, but it’s all I have to work with. I was sixteen once. Now I’m eighty-three. I am happy you are near. When I turn out the light, I can listen to time on its way to wherever it goes. Tick tock, tick tock.

Photo by Thomas Bormans on Unsplash