Hands of Time

Thanks for the good wishes for Oreo's recovery. She's feeling much better; in fact, she just jumped up here by my side as I am writing this.

Earlier this week, I blipped this clock as I picked it up at the clock shop. Here is the story on this clock: while it is not by definition an antique, it has been in my life for 51 of my 60 years. My parents bought this in 1962 (maybe '61), when they built an addition to our home. It hung on the wall of the family room for all of these years. I heard it chime every quarter hour for so long. Maybe my favorite chime to hear was on the Sunday morning phone calls from my parents...I could hear the clock chiming faintly in the background as they caught me up to date on the previous few days. Man, I miss those calls.

But every Sunday morning, my dad wound the clock with this same key, a routine and tradition I aim to continue. This clock hung in an imperfect house back in the day; but the chimes it rings out now, every 15 minutes, toll a perfect memory for me.