Broken Watch

I miss my grandpa’s watch. The one I got as a gift from my dad, after moving to a brand new city. It still told time, just as it did when it was worn by the man who sits between my first and last name. Beautiful, beaten, but still ticking. As was I.

That watch I lost at a nightclub after having one too many drinks, after neglecting the fraying wrist-strap for one too many days. I looked down at my wrist to tell the time, and skin greeted me instead. I cried on my way back home.

Broken clocks, at the very least, have it easier than most. They are guaranteed to be right twice a day. I, however, must be right at all times. Broken clocks get applause when they are finally correct. I am not rewarded with such kindness. Broken clocks may still be hung for decoration. And I must put effort into my appearance, even when I feel off-count.

I bought a new watch in Chinatown to remedy my sadness. A new Seiko; automatic, silver, and ticking. I paid in cash for the discount, and smiled back at the shop owner as I left. A week later, its movement died. And my watch could only be right twice a day. The dial fell out not long ago now. Damned, damned to be frozen.

For now, at least, I refuse to get this new watch fixed. Its hands still think it’s 11:53. To wear a broken watch serves little purpose for telling time. But it reminds me that, that which is broken can still be additive.

It compliments my jewelry. It reminds me of my grandpa. It doesn’t mind that it sits on my dominant wrist, another sinful act in time telling.

I am also reminded, that which is broken, needs only to be brought into a shop for repair.

Sometimes, to fix the damage, it can cost more than we thought we needed. More than the price of the watch itself. But that is what the human spirit exists to do.

To mend. To heal. To fight decay and increasing entropy. To measure the world to a precise degree. To tell the right time more than once a day. To tell truth when it matters instead of when it aligns with our state. To take what’s broken in for repair, to study it, and to fix it, even if it seems impossible, inconvenient, incredible.

I miss my grandpa’s watch. The one that never made me question its reliability. But now, twice a day, I get to look down and celebrate something broken. I hope I learn to celebrate myself the same way.