“My Visit with a Warm but Weary Clock” by Bob Rich

“My Visit with a Warm but Weary Clock” by Bob Rich

I had a long conversation at Starbucks tonight with an unusually friendly clock that became animated like a stick figure for a little while. “Typically, clocks don’t talk,” it said to me with a smile. I admitted, “Yes, I know. So, I want to ask you a good question.” “You have one minute,” the clock said warmly, while looking in curiosity at the tower of swirled cream spiraling atop its frappuccino. I reflected outloud, “Well, how about this: What can a human do to take the menace and threat out of time? I mean, time can be such a blessing like an empty canvass for an eager painter or like a giant green field under the summer sun or like a blank piece of sheet music paper waiting patiently for a song; or, time can be a curse as it was for Sisyphus from Greek myth if we keep taking foolish roads or keep running in circles or keep carrying the same heavy load year after year after year.” The clock said, “Well, motor mouth, you’re fortunate that my answer is brief, because your minute is almost up!” “So, tell me!” I asked. The clock stared at my heart and said, “You people. Always complicating things, always distracting yourselves away from love.” Then, the clock’s eyes and mouth disappeared, and its arms and legs folded up and retracted into its round face. The clock flatly remained there, face-up on the seat of the chair, ticking away, and then I hung it up on the wall.* * *