In June of 1931 my Mother's parents were married. One of the presents they received that day was a Garland mantle clock. They married at a comparatively advanced age. Grandma was 28, Grandpa 25.
Grandpa has been gone for most of 15 years already but today would have been his 103 birthday. Grandma passed just a few short weeks ago and we have been tackling the task of separating and sorting and sharing.
The Garland clock sits, as it has for more than 70 years, on top of the radio cabinet that stood in my Grandparent's front parlor. Now, though, it chimes the hours and the halves in my dining room, adding its two-tone chime to the more stentorian chime of Nancy's Grandmother's clock on the opposite wall.
Two clocks from two families, each brings along with its tone the echo of ten thousand memories blending into the future. My Granddaughter plays on the living room floor and turns to watch the clocks chime. By my Grandparent's anniversary in June we will have two more grandchildren to listen for the chimes.
Life goes on, marked by memory and comforted by the familiar. It's good. It's very good.