As I sit here winding my Eberhard 8 Jours, with the power reserve drooping at 3 days, I think to myself, "Has it already been 5 days since I last fed this gentle thing?"
I just finished sharing the care and feeding of my Traversetolo Vitre with Samantha, who, at 8, is already developing a natural appreciation for wristwatches. She knows to gently cradle the case in her left hand, supporting the lugs just so, while softly rolling the winding crown between her petite index finger and thumb. She watches as the gears turn, the click doing its job as the winding motion reaches its apex. Her face beams with joy as nourishment and energy replenish the flagging strength of the mainspring. She had noticed the weakening amplitude of the balance wheel. She proudly points out that as the mainspring charges up, the balance wheel seems to come back to life, it's lethargy fading away with each turn.
So often we frame our lives with the constant motion of the second hand; we measure our waking moments with the ticking of the minute and hour hand as it traverses the endless circle of the dial.
There is something tragically heroic about the 8 day power reserve indicator. There is no perceived motion, yet it marks the days. It goes about its doleful job, days turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and decades, and centuries and millenia... There is no commotion, no fanfare, no hoopla, and all too often, no recognition or appreciation either. It just does it's job, day in, day out...
As the years pass, there is a growing recognition of the passage of time, and yet a sense of loss about where the time goes. There is a certain melancholy as I realize that as I get older, the days grow longer, and the years get shorter...
Carpe Diem. Tempus Fugit.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
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