The watchmaker's clocks

It was a late summer night, and I was on the porch with my grandpa, who we all called Pops. The summer breeze was spreading the crickets’ symphony. Somewhere in the dark, we could hear the soloist – an owl. My heart was filled with excitement. I loved these moments because the tales of the old man accompanied them. Grandpa got seriously ill a few years ago. Since then, he has not been able to stay long out of bed. I cuddled next to him and listened in awe.

- Elizabeth, you've grown up! Look at yourself! In a year or two, your feet will touch the ground as you sit on this bench! – As ailing as he was, Pops always have managed to find a way to make me laugh.

- Enough with your jokes. Tell me a story!

- Who told you there's going to be one?

- You always tell me a story when we're on the porch. – I was eager to enter the magical world of Pops. – Come on, pleeeease, tell me about something I’ve never heard before!

- Okay, okay…but after that, you’re going straight to bed!

- Yeah, sure, start already! – The old man laughed, I closed my eyes and he coughed.

- There was a long time ago, there is now, and there will forever be a special watchmaker. In his workshop, there is always something to do. He works from early mornings to late, late nights; not a day to take a break, not even to sleep, but he is never tired. The watchmaker is special because his clocks are unusual.

- Pops, why the watchmaker never sleeps?

- Because he deals with the fine work of the watches... – I opened my mouth to interrupt my grandpa again, but he went ahead of me – ...Beth, be patient. Listen to the story, and you’ll find all the answers you need.

I nodded and continue listening.

- At the birth of every person on this planet, a letter flies immediately to the watchmaker. In the letter are hidden the name and birth date of the newborn. A box is attached to each letter. A little piece of the baby’s soul is being put in the package. When the watchmaker takes the letter and its attachment, he starts his diligent work.

- But, Pops, where's this watchmaker? – The old man sighed.

- Wait, and you will find out. Didn’t I tell you that you’ll get your answers while listening?

- Yeah, you did…

- Every clock, as every human, is one of a kind. The things that make the timekeepers unique are their shapes and sizes. At a glance, they looked just like typical watches, but when you look deeper, you can see the abnormalities. The dial of a single clock is so huge a person can lay on it, and instead of a strap, there are two enormous wings gently attached by the watchmaker.

- I know you told me to wait ‘till the end of the story, but what does a watch need wings for? – Pops laughed.

- You’re not patient at all, Bettie…

- Okay, okay…I will not ask you anything else ‘till the end of the story.

Grandpa coughed and continued:

- The workshop has a notable name – „Time”. Nobody knows where exactly it is, nor who sends the letters, but every adult knows about its existence. The watches are immense and need wings because they have an extraordinary mission: to carefully, almost imperceptibly, take their person on their dial and cure every painful experience.

- Pops, do I have such a watch? – He smiled.

- Of course, you do. You just haven’t seen it yet because you are a child. You’ll feel his presence when you grow up. Children rarely feel the clocks' take-off because it happens when they are asleep.

- But where would I go? I don’t want to leave home! – Pops chuckled again.

- The clock takes you to your next stage of life. It helps you grow. The older you get, the more attention you will give to the flights. They will help you become more and more aware of yourself. You’ll learn a lot from them. You will understand what it means to be patient and persistent. You will often get on the dial hurt, but you will feel how the clock’s wings heal your pain.

- Pops, do you have such a clock? – I felt that this was the end of the story, but I didn’t want it to be.

- I do… – he smiled – … it’s a bit old, but it’s holding on as hard as it can...

From this dear to me summer night, a few years passed. Now I am old enough to sit on the bench with my feed on the ground. Pops is barely moving, but he holds on tight. The evening tales got rarer, but they have not entirely disappeared. A few moments ago, we were on the porch again, just Pops and me. I am actively involved in the storytelling now (here, grandpa would’ve said that, even when I was little, I was not from the quiet ones.). Tonight we were telling each other stories about our clocks. I told him all about my adventures, all the difficulties that have been in front of me, everything. I explained how his night tales have affected my thoughts and beliefs, my whole life. My lips touched his forehead in a gentle kiss, then thanked him for all the help he (not so) secretly has been giving to me. We laughed and cried, and then we laughed again. I couldn’t believe how lucky I am to have such a wonderful person in my life. After one of the dozen stories that night, he shared with me:

- Beth, I'm not going to make my clock wait for me much longer. It has gotten too late. - My heart cracked a little. The meaning of his words was too painful. We stayed locked in a hug for a long time.

Before going to bed, I wanted to wish a good night to my best friend. My feet took me back to the porch. A picture that I will never forget unfolded before my eyes: Pops climbed on his dial, waved me goodbye, and with a smile, let the watch wings take him to his next destination.