I am a plain wrist-watch, an old time piece with two hands tracking the time click by click. Unless you really pay attention, you won’t see me move. I have two hands, but no second hand. I track the time with unremarkable steadiness. I self-wind, gathering energy from the day-to-day motion of life. You expect me to tell the time and that’s what I do. That’s all I do. I do not ring, ding, chime, glow, dong, glitter or buzz. I don’t have a playlist, a digital display or a diamond encrusted band.
I am content with my nondescript fate. I observe time passing. I inform the observer that time is passing.
I am not a fancy pocketwatch, dangling on a chain. I am not a grandfather clock, bonging with sonorous notes. I’m not a cuckoo clock, chirping in discordant song. I am not a slick digital clock with buttons and settings and tiny computer chips hidden inside. I’m not a stop-watch, ticking careful seconds, timing events, urging competitors to set records.
I keep time. I am inconspicuous, reliable, dependable.
Your disappointment with my boring, unfashionable steadiness is hardly my fault. I am what I am. When you expect me to boom out the melody of Big Ben or burst into a top-40 tune thanks to an internal radio, you might as well expect chocolate milk to fall from the sky.
I am a plain wrist-watch. I keep time.