A nostalgic sound

It is a simple plug in wall clock. A five inch center where the numbers minute, hour and second hand are.  A metal round border, a sort of red maroon color, with golden decorations wisping flower like.   A ring at the top to hang it up.  The cord was wound up with masking tape holding it in a clump.  The cord was stiff and had been painted a couple of wall colors.    There was a price tag of $15. dollars.

It had not sold.

Does this still keep accurate time?, I asked my sister.   

“Take it and try it out.”  She replied.

I took it home.

I tested it first in the kitchen outlet.  The metal knob to set the time was stiff.  I had to push it in and turn it at the same time.  My fingers could only move it forward 10 minutes at a time and it was rough on my fingers.   I got a pair of pliers to assist.    I got the time finally and left it hanging on a cabinet knob.

There it was!   The sound of my childhood.   The clock has this kind of constant grinding sound, not loud, muted.  As the second hand sweeps around, there is a murmur.

The sound of that clock that hung always in my house growing up in the den at 9114 Darley Driven Louisville KY.  The cord got painted the first time in the early 70’s when Mom had the wood paneling painted.  The clock followed my Mom into the next two houses she lived in.  In this last house, she had the walls in her den painted a soft beige.

The sound of that clock, when I plugged it in was as familiar as someone calling my name, or the sound of my Mom’s voice.  It was the background of my entire childhood.

I never realized it was the sound of my Mother’s home.  It was always there in the den everywhere she was, I never noticed it until I plugged it in to my own outlet.

I found a place for it in my office.   I can’t have enough clocks in my office at my house.  My clients have three places they can sit and face and I like them to have a clock in the background so they can monitor their own time during their appointment.   

Now as I sit in my office, I hear and notice that sound of the clock.  Constant.  A noise that was always in my life and I had never realized it.   I smile.  I like it.  My Mom and my childhood home surround me, as time moves forward.