Time will tell

So often when we discuss our marriage Rick and I are shocked at how fast the 12 years have gone since he sent me a LinkedIn message, "I'm in Geneva. Do you want a coffee?" We are not shocked at how happy we've been.

There are three clocks in our French flat. Each is special as they tick away our lives.

 

The Seth Thomas Clock

A gift from a vendor, Massachusetts Envelope, from when I worked at Digital in the 1990s. The rule was not to accept any gift over $25, but I did anyway. (I asked permission to accept two tickets to a Laker-Celtics game the next year and it was granted).

Compared to the gifts Supreme Court Justices Thomas and Alito have taken, I feel no guilt. 

I had great loyalty to the envelope company for their service. Their prices were always competitive. What earned my loyalty was when I worked for NFPA I had approved a four-color envelope proof. I can't remember the quantity but it was over 50,000.

The president of the company came in, looked at the print job as it was running and threw out what had been printed because he didn't like the quality. He reprinted with an improved design at his cost. He had my business until I left the country a decade later.

The clock has moved with me. At first it was in my Boston condo. Later it was in my Nest, my French attic studio in a 400 year-old building. It oversaw dinners with friends, my writing and my daily life for several years. Now it is in my kitchen where I moved with my husband because the Nest was too small for two. 

Although I use the stove top and oven timers, I still check that clock when I'm cooking. My husband, who has learned to be a good cook, looks at it regularly. When we walk through the kitchen, we can tell the time of day or night. It is part of our daily life.

My Annie Clock

Annie is the heroine of my Murder in (Fill in the city) series.

Imagine my surprise when my husband and I were walking in Vieille Ville in Geneva to see a woman who looked exactly like I had envisioned Annie giving out hugs in front of St. Pierre Cathedral, Jean Calvin's church. 

We took her photo. 

An artist friend made me a clock using that photo as a guide. My Annie clock is the first thing I see each morning when I wake.

Cuckoo Clock

Rick wanted a genuine Cuckoo Clock. Wonderful, I thought, I can buy him one for Christmas. I went out immediately and found a perfect one in downtown Geneva. It had everything a good cuckoo clock should have: animals, people that came out from doorways and a variety of musical tunes on the hour.

We had planned a getaway to Gruyere (the home of the cheese of the same name and reeking of Swiss atmosphere.) "I can get a cuckoo clock there," my husband said.

I had two choices.

1. Be a bitch and dislike everyone he liked so he wouldn't buy anything and be surprised on Christmas day. Not a good plan for a getaway.

2. Give him his Christmas present early.

I decided on number 2. 

Although we can shut off the cuckoo, many days as we are writing, we listen for its time announcements and songs.

We measure time to organize our days. The weeks, months and years continue to fly by. But as time passes we take time to appreciate all the good things in life. Clocks aren't usually thought of as reminders beyond ordinary things, "like we need to get to the store before it closes," but they are.