I broke my watch.
I was reaching into my pocket and missed, catching the edge of the watchband on my belt instead. There was a tiny snap and then the watch was hanging halfway off my wrist.
I took it the rest of the way off and realized the pin holding the watch to the band had snapped. This wasn’t a ‘quick-pop-it-back-into-place” repair – it was broken.
And it really – really – bothered me.
I sat down with the broken pieces in my hand and considered the ruined timepiece. It was a great watch – waterproof, a nice shade of blue that went with all my blue shirts, digital (because I don’t like guessing what time it is), and a good size that didn’t make my skinny wrists look even more skinny.
I half-heartedly looked for replacement pins online, but when I looked more closely at the band to get the size I realized the plastic was damaged as well. A new pin wouldn’t stay in place.
So, that was it. The watch was done.
Until I got a new watch, I would have to rely on other instruments to keep track of time. Which, I know, are everywhere. My phone, in my car, every computer, the appliances in the kitchen, and the clocks on the wall (analog, but I can make do).
But not the same. Not the same as that familiar and reassuring weight on my wrist. Always knowing at a glance exactly “when” I am.
A bit obsessive, granted.
For the past few days I’ve caught myself checking my bare wrist. I’ve looked at a few stores and gone online – not finding anything that really caught my eye.
And so I’ve been a little bit…off. And not quite sure “when” I am.
—–
This week also marks the anniversary of Jeff’s passing – 10 years ago.
His brother texted me just to check in – we traded a few messages as we do until we both faded into each other’s backgrounds again. There’s never much to say, but we try.
I’m noting the absence of the weight of time on my wrist – and feeling the weight of it in my head.