I met my mother when I was 14 yrs. old (1968…PLEASE do NOT do the math). One of the very first things we did together was go to pick up this family clock that Uncle Harvey was repairing. By the way…Uncle Harvey was the family repair man and NASA engineer, I do not recall anything ever, in my life that Uncle Harvey could not fix (or for that matter Aunt Mary could not make, cook, knit, sew, or play on the organ!) but...I digress…this clock has lived and chimed on every shelf and or mantle of Mothers since the very beginning of our relationship in South Miami.
From her original diagnosis, she kept asking me “which of my belongings do you want” and each time I answered “nothing”. That is such a loaded question, and I always felt so awkward when she would ask. I would always answer "I want our memories, our good times and our bad times and all of the love we have created as a result of them". We began talking honestly about our history one day. Admitting to each other that we had failed miserably at the “mother-daughter” relationship, but when we let go of the "family" rules and expectations we became the greatest friends, it was the most amazing love filled adult relationship! That was the day I changed my mind. I wanted to have this clock. We talked about that day in Uncle Harvey's garage and both agreed it was the one constant in our lives, it marked all of the time we spent together…both good and bad, it has been a part of us from our beginning. The clock was our symbol of the time we did not spend together, the time we spent badly together, and the time that we spent sipping wine, drinking coffee, laughing, exploring, dancing and reveling in the wonderfully peculiar relationship we created. It was always there, marking time and chiming to the best and the worst of us!
Mother’s clock is a finicky old girl and she has taken some time settling in, insisting on being on precise level footing and slipping into lethargy when I forget to wind her. But finally….we have found our groove! I now recognize the chimes gentle requests when it is time to be wound and she appreciatively responds every hour (and half hour). The love and memories of a lifetime surround me each day and every night and are told through those magnificent chimes.
Mother's Clock Chimes