Timepiece

Long ago, in the green morning of my childhood, I opened a drawer in my grandfather’s dresser and found among the thumbtacks, cufflinks, cigarette coupons and medals, a wristwatch. It had a worn leather strap and the hands had not moved in a very long time.

Sometime later, I found a similar watch in my father’s study. Not the same watch, but one that was similarly long worn out and no longer working.

Now I find myself in the situation where my watch has broken. I don’t like clutter, and full drawers depress me, but I cannot throw out this watch. It was given to me by S. when – looking back on it now – I was still a very young man. She gave it to me in London when I was there to meet my literary agent for the first time.

South Kensington. Sunlight on the white painted town houses. Ecclesiastical light spearing English pub interiors. Ambition and promise running high. Two young Scots on the lam and in love.

Of course I cannot throw away the watch – with its hands now frozen in that old moment.

Does anyone, I wonder, ever throw away an old watch?