There is a new Cuckoo Clock on my bedroom wall. Every hour the tiny little plastic bird pops out and belts out a tune that I find obnoxiously distracting. Unfortunately the clock is a gift from my loving mother and there’s little I can do about it without hurting her sentiments.
The reason it’s there instead of my old, beloved and extremely silent wall clock, is because in the grips of fervent spring cleaning, the old clock crashed. The glass casing shattered and the pretty princess mural within got maimed. The damage was beyond repair, thus the replacement.
With zealous enthusiasm my beloved and well meaning parent procured the loathsome new wall clock. To be perfectly honest, nothing would make a good replacement for the old princess clock which travelled with me through about eight homes in different army stations as I grew up.
Each new house had it’s own vagaries, but the room with the princess clock on the wall was always my domain. The place I called my own. Many nights I’ve spent in a new city, house, room, while looking at the faint glow of the reflective hands of the clock to comfort me in my new surroundings.
A bit of myself broke with that princess clock. A piece of my childhood disappeared. A loving memory was tarnished. A security blanket was snatched away. No, nothing would have replaced it and been loved just as much. And yet, the new clock was pretty. Different, but providing the same service.
Maybe change is not always sought after, but it will come to your doorstep regardless. The idea is to embrace it with as much grace and dignity as possible. The hourly tunes have been now disconnected by the sensible parent as it’s a bit much to take on a daily basis.
The little bird still pops out to nod at me, I actually look forward to the silent hourly appraisal now. That’s how change in life works. You may not love it at first shot, but eventually it will grow on you, and if you are wise, you will learn to grow with it.
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