My grandparents had a huge collection of clocks.
Memories of the ticking and chimes
take me back to my childhood.
I can remember gazing at this clock
and wondering who the woman was.
I could spend hours making up stories in my mind.
When I was 18 years old,
Mammaw gave me the clock for Christmas.
It became a beloved treasure
that has moved with me from home to home over the years.
Years ago, when she passed away,
I inherited this lovely clock.
The key had been lost and the gears were stuck.
Roger secretly took it to a clock shop
and had it fixed as a surprise, so long ago.
It was such a thoughtful and wonderful gift.
Now, I love to hear the chimes.
It reminds me of two people that I love dearly.
My mom recently unearthed this mantel clock
that also belonged to my grandparents.
This one hung in a place of honor over her fireplace.
I have vivid memories of Mammaw teetering on a step stool
to wind the clock each morning.
I always felt like it was a witness
to the happy moments that unfolded in that room.
On holidays and celebrations,
I can remember looking up at the clock
and thinking how lucky it was
to get to watch our family.
Last week, my mom gave it to me.
Now it sits proudly on my mantle
and is witnessing me as a mother,
with my own family.
Welcome home, old clock.