Marking Time

I wind my clocks every Monday.
There are two clocks that need my attention.
The mantle clock that my husband gave me when I was carrying our first child.
The grandfather’s clock that my husband gave me years later for our anniversary.

I love the sound of my clocks.
They faithfully chime on the quarter hour.
There is comfort in the sound of the chimes.
There is solace in the sound of the ticking.

There was a problem.
I wound my clock as I usually do.
Hours later, I looked into my dining room and noticed that the clock had stopped.
The grandfather’s clock that I have come to rely on had stopped.

The time was frozen.
The marking of time had ceased.
And I hadn’t noticed.
I am so used to the sounds of the chimes, yet it was hours before I noticed the quiet.

I went in and opened the glass door of the grandfather’s clock.
I turned the chimes to silent and slowly advanced the minute hand of the clock.
I made sure to stop at each quarter hour until I heard a click.
When I set the correct time, I gave the pendulum a gentle push.

The comforting sound began again.
The clock that had stopped was now started.
The minutes and hours lost on the clock could not be retrieved.
The clock could only go forward and continue to keep time from that point on.

I came downstairs today and noticed that during the night the clock stopped again.
No ticking.
No marking time.
The hours passed despite the fact that the pendulum had stopped swinging.

I set the clock again today, stopping at each quarter hour.
This time I allowed the clock to chime each quarter hour.
I went through the whole series of Westminster chimes in a matter of minutes.
I was speeding up time, or so it seemed.

The clock stopped again.
Something is wrong.
The pendulum that should swing back and forth seems to be twisting ever so slightly.
Perhaps a cable is loose.

Now I must find a clock repairperson to come to my home.
I had this clock serviced once before.
An older gentleman that did expert clock repair fixed it for me.
I remember the day he came to my house.

He was so careful, so meticulous.
He laid out fleece cloths on my dining room table.
He proceeded to take the clock apart before my very eyes.
I watched his intricate work, his fine hand-eye coordination as he worked on each piece.

My mantle clock was serviced years ago as well.
However that clock could easily be brought to his workshop.
My mantle looked so empty when the clock was gone.
My rooms seemed so silent as the quarter hour passed without a chime.

I don’t need the clocks to mark off time.
Life is doing a good job of marking off the years for me.
With each birthday and each anniversary another year goes by.
I do not need the quarter hour chimes to remind me.

Time passes.
Even if I fail to wind my clocks, time passes.
Even if the pendulum fails to swing, time passes.
Even if no chimes were ever heard again, time passes.

A song was released on a band’s debut album when I was only ten years old.
I heard the song much later when I bought the band’s greatest hits album.
I got to hear all the songs I had missed before I was into music and buying albums.
One song got a lot of radio play: Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

As I was walking down the street one day
A man came up to me and asked me
What the time was that was on my watch, yeah
And I said,

2 responses to “Marking Time”

1. Thank you for the reminder. The time is now.

   Reply

   • Monty,
     I need that reminder as well. NOW is all we have!
     Gina

     Reply