Speaker 1: The old Clockmaker's Gift. In a small town, at the
Speaker 1: edge of a wide valley, there lived an old clockmaker.
Speaker 1: His name was mister Alden, and he had been making
Speaker 1: clocks for as long as any one could remember. His
Speaker 1: shop sat on the corner of the main street, between
Speaker 1: the bakery and the book shop, and it was always
Speaker 1: warm inside. The warmth came from the dozens of clocks
Speaker 1: that lined the walls, each one taking in its own rhythm,
Speaker 1: filling the air with a sound like a hundred tiny heartbeats.
Speaker 1: Mister Alden had silver hair and hands that were steady
Speaker 1: despite his age. He wore a leather apron stained with
Speaker 1: oil and polish, and he always had a pair of
Speaker 1: brass magnifying glasses hanging around his neck. He was a
Speaker 1: quiet man, but he smiled often, and when he smiled,
Speaker 1: his eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that
Speaker 1: made people feel safe. One autumn afternoon, a young girl
Speaker 1: walked into his shop. Her name was Clara and she
Speaker 1: was nine years old. She had been sent by her
Speaker 1: mother to buy a new kitchen timer. But when she
Speaker 1: stepped through the door and heard all the clocks ticking
Speaker 1: at once, she stopped and stood very still listening. The
Speaker 1: sound was extraordinary. Each clock had its own voice, its
Speaker 1: own pace. Some take it fast and light, like rain
Speaker 1: drops on a tin roof, Others tacked slow and deep,
Speaker 1: like a heartbeat heard through a wall. Together they made
Speaker 1: a kind of music, a sound that was both busy
Speaker 1: and peaceful at the same time. Mister Alden looked up
Speaker 1: from his work bench and saw the girl standing there,
Speaker 1: her eyes wide, her head tilted slightly to one side
Speaker 1: as he listened. He did not speak for a moment.
Speaker 1: He let her listen. Then he said, gently, you can
Speaker 1: hear them, can't you. Clara nodded. They all sound different,
Speaker 1: She said they do. Mister Alden agreed. Every clock has
Speaker 1: its own heart, just like people. Clara looked at him curious.
Speaker 1: Then she looked around the shop at all the clocks.
Speaker 1: There were tall grandfather clocks in the corners, their pendulums
Speaker 1: swinging in long, slow arcs. There were small mantle clocks
Speaker 1: on the shelves, their faces painted with flowers and stars.
Speaker 1: There were carriage clocks and wall clocks, and clocks shaped
Speaker 1: like houses and trees and animals. And on the work
Speaker 1: bench half finished, there were clock parts scattered like puzzle pieces,
Speaker 1: gears and springs and tiny hands waiting to be a sounmbled.
Speaker 1: Mister Alden set down the tool he was holding and
Speaker 1: reached under the counter. He pulled out a small wooden
Speaker 1: box and opened it. Inside, nestled in a fold of
Speaker 1: blue velvet was a pocket watch. It was not large.
Speaker 1: It was the size of a plum, and it was
Speaker 1: made of silver that had been polished to a soft glow.
Speaker 1: The face of the watch was simple, with clean black
Speaker 1: numbers on a white background, and the hands moved smoothly
Speaker 1: without any hesitation or jitter. But it was the back
Speaker 1: of the watch that was remarkable. There engraved in the
Speaker 1: silver was a pattern of tiny interlocking gears, so finely
Speaker 1: detailed that they looked real, as if the watch were alive,
Speaker 1: and the gears were turning beneath the surface. This is
Speaker 1: for you, mister Alden said, holding the watch out to Clara.
Speaker 1: Clara stared at it. But I didn't buy anything, she said,
Speaker 1: I know, mister Alden said, this is not something you buy,
Speaker 1: this is something you carry. Clara took the watch carefully,
Speaker 1: as if it were a bird that might fly away.
Speaker 1: It was warm in her hand, and it had a
Speaker 1: weight to it that surprised her. She turned it over
Speaker 1: and looked at the back, at the tiny gears engraved
Speaker 1: in the silver. Then she turned it back and looked
Speaker 1: at the face, and then she noticed something. The watch
Speaker 1: was ticking, but it was not ticking like the other
Speaker 1: clocks in the shop. It was ticking slowly and steadily,
Speaker 1: in a rhythm that felt familiar. She held the watch
Speaker 1: against her chest, just below her collar bone, and she
Speaker 1: felt it. The tick of the watch was in time
Speaker 1: with her heart beat, exactly in time, not faster, not slower,
Speaker 1: perfectly matched, as if the watch knew her and had
Speaker 1: been made just for her. Mister Alden, she whispered, it's
Speaker 1: matching my heart beat. Mister Alden smiled, I know, he said.
Speaker 1: That's what it does. It listens, listens to what to you,
Speaker 1: he said, to whatever you're feeling, and it tries to help.
Speaker 1: Clara did not fully understand, but she did not need to.
Speaker 1: She slipped the watch into her pocket and thanked mister Alden,
Speaker 1: and then she left the shop and walked home through
Speaker 1: the autumn leaves. From that day on, Clara carried the
Speaker 1: pocket watch everywhere. It went with her to school, tucked
Speaker 1: in the pocket of her dress. It went with her
Speaker 1: to bed, resting on the night stand beside her head.
Speaker 1: It went with her on walks through the woods and
Speaker 1: picnics by the river, and visits to her grandmother's house.
Speaker 1: The watch was always warm, and it always ticked in
Speaker 1: time with her heart. There were days when Clara felt anxious,
Speaker 1: days when the world felt too big or too loud,
Speaker 1: or too fast. On those days, she would reach into
Speaker 1: her pocket and pull out the watch and hold it
Speaker 1: against her chest, and she would close her eyes and listen,
Speaker 1: tick tick tick. The watch was steady, The watch was calm.
Speaker 1: The watch told her that everything was all right, that
Speaker 1: time was not her enemy, that there was always enough
Speaker 1: of it. She would breathe slowly and deeply, and her
Speaker 1: heart beat would slow to match the watch, and the
Speaker 1: anxiety would pass like a cloud moving across the sun.
Speaker 1: She never told any one about the watch. It was
Speaker 1: her secret, her small silver comfort. She only knew that
Speaker 1: it helped, and that was kind, and that it was
Speaker 1: always there. Years passed, Clara grew up. She left the
Speaker 1: town and went to study at a university in the city,
Speaker 1: and she carried the watch with her. She traveled to
Speaker 1: other countries, and walked on foreign streets, and the watch
Speaker 1: taked quietly in her pocket, marking the time. She had
Speaker 1: days of great and days of quiet sadness, and through
Speaker 1: all of them the watch remained. It did not run down,
Speaker 1: it did not stop. It ticked and ticked, patient and faithful,
Speaker 1: keeping time with her heart. One evening, many years later,
Speaker 1: Clara was sitting in a garden with a cup of tea.
Speaker 1: She was older now, with streaks of silver in her hair.
Speaker 1: The sun was setting and the sky was the color
Speaker 1: of peaches and cream. She took the watch out of
Speaker 1: her pocket and held it in her palm. It was
Speaker 1: as warm as the day she had received it. The
Speaker 1: silver was still bright, and the face was still clean,
Speaker 1: and the hands still moved smoothly. She heard a sound
Speaker 1: behind her. A child was standing at the garden gate,
Speaker 1: a small boy with dark eyes and a curious expression.
Speaker 1: He was looking at the watch with fascination. What is that,
Speaker 1: he asked. Clara smiled. It's a pocket watch, she said,
Speaker 1: Can I see it? She held it out to him.
Speaker 1: He took it gently, the way she had once taken
Speaker 1: it from mister Alden, and he looked at the face
Speaker 1: and the hands and the tiny gears on the back.
Speaker 1: Then he held it to his chest and his eyes
Speaker 1: went wide. It's matching my heart beat, he whispered. Clara
Speaker 1: felt a warmth spread through her chest, the same warmth
Speaker 1: she had felt that first day in the clockmaker's shop.
Speaker 1: She looked at the boy, and she saw herself, young
Speaker 1: and wondering, holding a small silver promise against her heart.
Speaker 1: It listens to you, she said, softly, and it tries
Speaker 1: to help. The boy looked up at her, his eyes shining.
Speaker 1: Can I keep it, he asked. Yes. Clara said, you
Speaker 1: can keep it, carry it with you. It will be
Speaker 1: there when you need it. The boy slipped the watch
Speaker 1: into his pocket and ran back through the gate and
Speaker 1: down the street, laughing. Clara watched him go. She sat
Speaker 1: in her garden as the sun dipped below the horizon
Speaker 1: and the first stars appeared, and she felt a deep
Speaker 1: and quiet peace. The watch still ticks. It ticks in
Speaker 1: the pocket of a child who does not yet know
Speaker 1: how much he will come to need it. But the
Speaker 1: watch knows, it has always known. Time is kind, time
Speaker 1: is patient, and the watch will keep him company through
Speaker 1: every moment of it, Steady and warm, matching his heartbeat. Exactly,
Speaker 1: telling him without words that he is not alone.