Resetting the antique clock was an occasion—my mother stood behind me, coaching. Because the hands couldn’t be moved counterclockwise without damaging the mechanism, the “fall back” reset required a progression through eleven hours. I opened the glass door covering its face and, using my index finger only on the minute hand, began the journey. As I approached every half-hour, she’d tell me to slow for the bell. For the hour, with its numbered chimes, she had more instruction. “Pay attention,” she said. “Give each chime a chance to ring.” Stopped now, that clock’s silence offers more warning than advice.
Miriam Kotzin writes fiction and poetry. Her most recent books are Debris Field, Country Music, and the forthcoming novel Right This Way (Spuyten Duyvil Press).