I have this watch now. It's a family heirloom, though I don't know who it originally belonged to. My paternal grandmother had it, and it seems likely that it originated from her side of the family, as she came from a wealthier background than my farming-family grandfather. Who she inherited it from is a bit of a mystery. I am trying to date it to get a better idea of who might have owned it. Apparently one watch-maker suggested c.1910.
Despite the mystery of who owned it first, I like wearing it. It makes me feel connected to the women in my family. I take comfort and strength from the unknown wrists that it has circled, and the many hands that have wound it. It looses around 10 minutes every 24 hours, though it seems to lose more time when I'm unfocused and running around, and less when I'm calm and my energy is directed. Is that weird, for a watch to so fully embody the metaphor it represents? Time ticking, losing time, finding time...
I haven't worn a watch for over 20 years, and I am out of the habit of using it to actually measure time. But whenever I tuck my hair behind my left ear I hear it ticking, and that is reassuring.
No comments:
Post a Comment