There comes a time when things have to go.
Years ago, we had a garage sale when my mother was selling her house. My father died several years earlier, and spread out on the lawn and driveway were a lot of his things. Tools, clothing and the bric-a-brac that builds up after of decades in the same place. I didn’t end up with much of it.
My mom went from place to place, each time shedding more possessions — and now we’re facing a move that will not allow furniture to go along.
And that brings us to the grandfather clock.
My father built the clock 40 years ago from a kit and it stood for years in our dining room — and now no one in my family wanted it. I’m at a point in my life where I’m trying to get rid of things, not acquire more — but the idea of the clock going on Craigslist and ending up with some strangers really bothered me.
So, I drove to Poughkeepsie and loaded it in my car.
I may regret it one day, but how can I just let the clock go? So much of the tangible evidence of his life is gone, scattered here and there — it just seems like something he made should stay with me.
No, we’re not defined by stuff, but objects have the power to transport you through time. What could be better for that than a clock?