Timex

Surviving the washer’s cycle, a night on the snowy hillside, and many months in the weeds alongside the stream, my little Timex watch with the blue-striped cloth strap endured great trials in its life. Each time it resurfaced, I would cover the pale strip across my wrist, relieved to be reunited with this long-ago gift from Grandma and Granddad. But the day the sudden thunderstorm drove us from the beach, my watch was lost forever. My wrist slowly accepted its nakedness, tanned to match my arms. Someday another watch will replace it, but until then, I remain ignorant of time.