Two days ago, the clock which resides in my bookshelf died. It was a clock I loved dearly.
An iconic art deco design, I found it in a shop in Amsterdam in the early 2000s. It called out to me as my eyes swept through the clocks and watches displayed in the store. Out of habit of not buying things in 1’s, I bought another equally charming desk clock which died a few years ago.
I like clocks. Growing up, in my parent’s home my father had a wind up clock that sat on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. It chimed every 15 minutes, day, and night. At night before going to bed, my father diligently wound the clock with a little key, all 12 full rounds. If he was feeling generous one of us three sisters got to have a go at the winding. Such bliss. Today, it sits on my second sister’s mantelpiece.
As a child, when I was old enough to wear a watch, I was thrilled to have a mini clock on my wrist. I felt very adult. Since then, every watch has been special. When I quit full time work, about 20 years ago, I felt I didn’t need to know the time, all the time. I stopped wearing a watch. I felt free. Also, cell phones had come into my life, and they had the time on them.
When smartwatches came into the market a few years ago, my son prompted me to get one. I did, mostly to know how many steps I take in a day and when I get a call, it buzzes on my wrist. I don’t have to wind the Mi Fit, as it is called, but simply charge it now and then.
But, back to clocks. In my present home, there is a wall clock in the kitchen, in the first floor sitting area in the bookcase, in the two bedrooms and in the basement. Fortunately, my husband also likes having clocks around. I took a photo of the kitchen shelves with the clock some time ago and my FB friend Stephanie McAuliffe did an artwork and sent it to me (see below). So special.
In the old days, the clocks were loud, and the ticking was oddly comforting. Research suggests that it’s good to put a tick-tock clock in a newborns crib as it mimics a mother’s heartbeat, when the child is in the womb. I get it. I’m not in a crib any more and haven’t been in my mother’s womb for a while, but I like the tick-tock sound.
After four days of changing batteries, cajoling the clock in the bookcase to come back to life, I finally accepted that it’s come to the end of its life with me. And it’s time for me to let go.
Today, I started searching online for clocks. I found one. With my finger lingering over the confirmation of the purchase in my Amazon cart, for a moment I felt guilty that I have so quickly replaced the clock I love. But clearly, not guilty enough.
So, goodbye clock. It’s been a good association.