Infinity

Well it sure didn’t look like much. What was he talking about? The watch was old, sure, but worse, it was one of those pocket watches that nobody ever used anymore. The brass covering of the watch was dented and stuck, so the thing didn’t even open to tell you the time, which was, after all, the whole reason the watch existed.

And this was all she got. All that her father had left her. A beat up, dented, worn old pocket watch. Great.

She kicked the ground in front of her with her boot, knowing that it was a silly thing to do but wanting to vent her frustrations on the world. Other people’s fathers left them large inheritances. Things they could actually use. Or at least sell to make money. What in the world had her father been thinking? Even she had more sense than that.

She held the watch in her gloved hand, her breath making pictures in the air in front of her. She stood near the bus stop, but not too near. She didn’t want anyone else to talk to her, and the bench was crowded with people going home after Christmas shopping. Some of them were even being friendly, owing perhaps to the season. Or perhaps to the fact that they had, finally, accomplished their chores of buying something for everyone and his auntie that was coming to their Christmas dinner. Either way, they were chatty, and she was in no mood to chat.

She glared at the watch. Useless. Always useless. It seemed that everything in her life was that way. Then, suddenly, all the anger drained out of her. It took too much energy, really. And, with a slump, she let out a long breath, defeated.

The bus finally came, and she rode it in silence, her stony glare preventing even the friendliest passengers from attempting to impart holiday cheer. The bus stopped a block from her apartment, and she climbed off into the darkened night.

There was a man at the bus stop, sitting on the painted green bench. He looked at her as she descended the stairs, glanced briefly at the bus, but made no move to get on.

She ignored him, as she had the others, turning to walk toward her apartment building. Her boots plodded along the street, her shoulders slumped. Not even the bright Christmas lights or the scent of pine on the chilled air could cheer her up.

She opened the door to her apartment, walked through, and slammed it. She then threw her coat off, kicked off her boots, and plopped onto the sofa, still holding the watch.

She stared at it, running her fingers over the smooth metal. Her thumb slid in and out of the indentation on the watch’s covering. It was actually somewhat soothing, the rhythmic motion of her thumb on the watch.

Still, it made no sense. Why had he said it held incredible value? Her father had never been crazy. She hadn’t always understood him, but he hadn’t been truly crazy. And yet, he had said that there was a true treasure inside of this watch. Worth more than anything else in the world. It made no sense.

And her head was beginning to hurt with trying. Her mind could not wrap itself around this thing she had been told. And she was tired. Best to give it up and go to bed. So what, all she had left was a watch? It wasn’t like she needed anything else anyway.

Her warm bed beckoned her, and she fell asleep quickly, her exhausted mind falling into the soothing embrace of slumber.

It ended all too quickly. The jolt that awakened her took her from sleep. There was someone in the room. Two someones. Voices. They were talking. Discussing her.

“Why use a watch?”

“It is a metaphor.”

“She doesn’t understand it. She’s so frustrated by it. It’s not very nice to put something like that in front of her when you know she won’t understand it.”

“The human mind is not meant to understand it. The mind is meant to submit to the spirit. The spirit understands everything I say. If only the mind will listen.”

“And how is she going to grasp this metaphor?”

“Watch.”

And suddenly the voices stopped. She sat up. Her eyes were wide, but nobody was in the room. She hadn’t expected anyone to be. Watch.

Watch and see. See what will be done through me! She fumbled with the bedside lamp, trying to find the light switch. As the light flooded the room, her eyes were drawn to the watch on the bedside table. It shone in the light. And as her hand reached for it, she realized it looked different than before, though really nothing had changed.

Still, it opened. It hadn’t done that before. And she saw that it still worked. The second hand ticking away, the time set to the exact minute her digital clock displayed.

Tick. Tick. Tick. She was amazed. What power in time! What power it took to funnel infinite eternity into a single second, so that all of creation was not overwhelmed with the flood of all that is eternity. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Infinite power. A never-ending, everlasting, infinity. Funneled, controlled, released. One. Tick. At. A. Time.