Timepiece
As a child, I had a watch. Not just any kind of watch — a wristwatch with a big cat face. The minute and second hands were cattails. The band was bold and sparkled. I felt beautiful and empowered when I wore my glittery rhinestone-adorned watch.
Growing up, I recall all the kids I knew had this nostalgic watch. The girl’s watches had glittery cat faces, and the boys’ were robot faces with a silver-colored bands. The timepieces were an award given to children who have successfully learned how to tell time. The awarded girls seemed hypnotized by its beauty — gazing at it without blinking. The watch’s reflection in their eyes shone like a twelve-carat diamond decorated their wrist.
Today, a smile stretched across my face as I put the old watch on. The rhinestones are dull, and some are missing. I wished I could go back in time to restore its beauty and my youth. Both are more valuable than any other treasure on Earth. I wound my watch to see if it still worked. A weird warm, swirling feeling started in the pit of my stomach and reached outward to my hands, feet, and head. I lay my head back on the sofa and momentarily closed my eyes.
I fluttered my eyes open to see my father kissing my mother’s forehead. She smiled with all of the love a wife could muster. She passed him a paper bag lunch and thermos. Silently her lips moved, “I love you.” He brushed her hair from her cheek and kissed her blush-painted face. He turned to the living room and waved, “Have a great day, Pumpkin.” He always called me Pumpkin.
I heard quick paw steps rushing down the stairs. Pants of morning excitement are coming from our hyperenergetic pup named Maxwell. I watched him knock into mom as he ran to his water bowl. He took a few quick slurps, and now he’s heading in my direction with a water-soaked snout. I’ve missed his cold nose and sloppy warm kisses. I never believed I would hear myself say that.
Suddenly the house was quiet. Mom and Maxx were gone. I sat in silence, watching the candle quickly burn out into the darkness of the once-morning lite room. I collected myself and headed upstairs to get ready for the day.
At the top of the stairs is the teal-accented bathroom with a bright yellow shower curtain and matching towels. At the sink was my father. He was sobbing deeply. He splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror, “I am sorry, my love; I’d give my soul to hold you in my arms again.” He looked at me with eyes filled with sadness and slammed the door.
I walked into my bedroom, and there lay Maxx. He was quiet, and age had stolen color from his face. I gently sat on the edge of my bed — he calmly put his head on my lap. I pet his soft fur while his body became limp and his breathing stopped. “Maxx? Maxxie?!” I lovingly wrap his body in my comforter and lay him at the foot of my bed.
The cheap aged material of the watchband tore and fell at my feet when it caught on his collar. The tick of the timepiece slowed.
My childhood era faded into the newness of now. My bed was ruffled from wrapping Maxx, but Maxx had walked the rainbow bridge many years ago.
Time was rearranging itself around me as I ran down the stairs hoping to have one last glimpse of my father before he…
I ran into the living room seconds before he died from overwhelming loss. The gun hit the floor next to their wedding album. Just a split second before touching his cheek, time again, it didn’t allow me to say goodbye as it returned to current, and the watch stopped.
As an adult, I dreamt many times about how I would save the lives of my mother, Maxx, and my father. I lost sleep, thinking about how things would be different if I knew what would happen before they did.
I would love to see them again — smell my mother’s baking, dad’s cologne, and pet Maxx, but I believe that time doesn’t change the past, and neither can I.
… at least this time. Now to repair that cat-faced watch again, and maybe this time, I can fix things and live the life I have always hoped for without returning.
THE END
MaryAnn Lindquist & Mojha R. MacDowell
2021
