The clock that stopped a long time ago..

Dear Fellow Journalers,

A perspective piece from G. Enjoy!

~Sallie

I recently stopped by to see an acquaintance of mine. (I can’t call him a friend because this guy doesn’t make friends) Now this guy, for reasons all his own, has become a bit of a hermit as he’s gotten older. You hardly ever see this guy in public, and he only goes out to buy the necessities of life.

I think that’s why a few of us stop by occasionally to see him. We just want to be sure he’s OK. He begrudgingly allows us in his house, and frankly, we wonder how long this is going to last. He seems to withdraw more and more each time I see him. I understand that this is common among certain older people, who “have no one.”

When I was there the other day, I noticed, for the first time, this beautiful old clock. It was a magnificent old thing, beautifully carved from a fine wood. But I also noticed it wasn’t running.

When I asked him about it, he said “That clock stopped a long time ago.” I asked him if he was going to get it fixed. NO! I asked him if I could get it fixed for him. NO!

I then pleaded that it was much too beautiful to leave just sitting, not fulfilling its’ intended purpose. I said a piece like that should be running and on display, so its’ beauty could be appreciated.

He stared at me, giving me the most quizzical look. ‘I told you, that clock stopped running a long time ago!”

Long moments of silence passed between us. I wondered if I was about to be thrown out. But suddenly he decided to explain himself.

“You see, that clock is kinda like my life. It had its’ place, time and function for years. It worked perfectly, and did its’ job. Then one day, it just got old and tired and stopped, kinda like my life.”

I protested. “Yes, it is like your life. But in a different way than you’ve come to believe. Just like you, that clock is still very much alive! All it needs is a few adjustments, and it’ll be fully functional again! Just like your life! It’s too beautiful to just sit there, half buried by junk, when it could be restored to its’ former glory!”

The look on his face was like a little boy who had been caught being bad. More moments of uneasy silence.

“WHO ASKED YOU ANYWAY! Just because we worked together for a few years doesn’t give you the right to come into my house and tell me what’s wrong with my life, or my clock!! Get out!”

My drive home was a long one.

As I sit here relaying this story to you, I’m thinking about that old man, sitting there alone in his house, doing who knows what. I’m thinking about that old clock too. Both are beautiful things, easily fixed, but choosing instead to just remain where they are, not fulfilling their potential. What a shame.

(P.S. Yes, I’m going to try to visit him again, after a time, giving things a chance to “cool” Wish me luck—I’d really like to see both back up and running.)

 

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