I’m looking down at my father’s old watch. A Waltham – see below - with
its thick leather strap. It has an even smaller leather one imbedded in it.
Complete with a tiny buckle to keep it on the wrist.
The black numbers make it an easy read as they would have how
many years ago?
I’ve kept this watch close to me over the years. There is a sadness
to it all.
I gave up wearing a watch some years ago. And what did I
discover? I’m much more aware of the time.
Writer’s comment: I can see my father in his clerical collar giving
the sermon from the pulp at his Christ Church Anglican in Birchcliffe. Part of
east end of Toronto. He’d glance down briefly to check the time. On this same
watch. For a good reason. He kept sermons to ten minutes.
He was a clergyman. I was a kid. I still miss him.