Clocks Make the Best Metaphors

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Its funny, how often clocks are used in stories. Perhaps they are a metaphor for a person's life or a tool used to show days going by in a movie, the hands rapidly circling the face. But this clock has no face. Only black and white numbers flipping with every passing minute. This clock, the one that shows the date, the time, and the day of the week, is not special. It's not a talking clock that helps the subject understand some life lesson, it does not sing or dance in a french castle. The only aspect of this clock that makes it special is its name.

Brand New Alzheimer's Clock!

• Brand new Alzheimer's clock for sale. 
• Date, Time, and Day
• Only $59.99

"I have to buy it, The Mother needs it" she thought to herself, hoping that if she ignored the name it would indeed, simply be a clock.

In that moment she wasn't sure what was more strange: calling her mom "The Mother" or buying a clock for this stranger her mom had become. She decided it was the later and put in her credit card information.

The clock itself was not the issue. In fact, she had thought about buying herself one as well, but on further reflection realized that was why she had a cell phone. No, it was not the clock's fault that its presence made her want to cry, but rather its very crude and obvious name. Alzheimer's clock...why would they name it that? Its bad enough that the family has to deal with the Alzheimer's or any other form of dementia, bu then to name the clock after the disease. That was the horrific part.

She stared at the order form in her inbox and the name teased her, reminding her of the reality that had not yet sunk in. It was easier when she could blame the medication, the seizures, the broken shoulders, or anything other than her own mother's brain. But the dreadfully named clock being shipped to her made it clear; time could not go backward and neither could her mother's mind.

Her mother's mind, much like the old antique clocks one finds on a mantle in their grandmother's house, was frozen. There was no room for new minutes or new hours, time would not go on. New memories would not be marked with the cheerful ticking of a second hand...there was nowhere for them to go.