Ticking and tocking
When I was eight or nine years old, my great great grandfather died in his old farmhouse in Georgia, surrounded by his family.
I don't remember if I was there with my parents only one day or if we made several trips to the farmhouse together. What I do remember, vividly, was the ticking of the clock in that room.
Even as young as I was, the symbolism of that incessant ticking did not escape me. Every tick, every tock marked the passage of my great great grandfather's life.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. DY-. ING. DY-. ING.
No wonder, then, that I am not today a fan of loudly ticking clocks. They make me edgy, uncomfortable, unpleasantly aware that my life is passing.
And of course the man that I love is a great fan of loudly ticking clocks. We have one in nearly every room of our apartment.
I asked him the other day about this. I explained what I've written here. I told him that I just could not understand how anyone could hear that incessant ticking and not be reminded that time was indeed ebbing away.
"The sound reminds me," he said, "to appreciate every moment of the happy life I have."
How on earth did I come to be so fortunate to be spending my seconds, minutes and hours with such a man?
I don't remember if I was there with my parents only one day or if we made several trips to the farmhouse together. What I do remember, vividly, was the ticking of the clock in that room.
Even as young as I was, the symbolism of that incessant ticking did not escape me. Every tick, every tock marked the passage of my great great grandfather's life.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. DY-. ING. DY-. ING.
No wonder, then, that I am not today a fan of loudly ticking clocks. They make me edgy, uncomfortable, unpleasantly aware that my life is passing.
And of course the man that I love is a great fan of loudly ticking clocks. We have one in nearly every room of our apartment.
I asked him the other day about this. I explained what I've written here. I told him that I just could not understand how anyone could hear that incessant ticking and not be reminded that time was indeed ebbing away.
"The sound reminds me," he said, "to appreciate every moment of the happy life I have."
How on earth did I come to be so fortunate to be spending my seconds, minutes and hours with such a man?