Many years ago--decades, actually, not years--Michael’s parents gave me a nice watch for Christmas. I’ve worn it daily ever since. This summer, it became erratic, so we figured the battery was dying. Except its battery has been confirmed by several jewelers as really strong. The exterior of the watch has rubbed through the surface metal in some places, the band has been replaced many, many times, and we now face the option of replacing the movement (pricey) or getting a new watch (variable). Even if we replace the movement, the case is still pretty dinged up. I don’t really want a new watch. The ones we looked at today do not hold a candle to my well-loved, well-used, old standby. The watchmaker we always used for special jobs has long since died... and watchmakers of any variety are few and far between these days. I know people who have many watches and who match them to their outfits. Me, I’ve always worn just the one, and loved and appreciated it. It’s a conundrum that bears some thought.
I’m off to Lexington, then home, then Chicago, then classes start next Monday. Life is moving fast. Too, too soon after that, we take Shea to college and she starts her new adventure. In the background, I’m still trying to figure out the right course to navigate going forward. It’s a hard one.
This week, I feel like my recovery has taken another leap forward to a new level. I’m still broken, but to a much lesser degree than in quite some time. I’m again hopeful that I’ll regain my sense of wholeness and self, including my full range of movement and a little more short-term memory and stamina than I have now. All the same, this week’s progress, intangible yet still detectable, is encouraging.
I’ll miss my Sunday at home and am also looking forward to seeing friends in Lexington, as well as working with their department heads and chairs. The skies look clear and the weather looks OK in between here and there, too. Here’s to a smooth trip.