Long ago, my family was considered well-to-do because my father was a teacher. We lived in this half-plank, half-cement house with four rooms, a library and a huge kitchen. I was only about seven when my father died and life was rather blurry after that due to many other tragedies. Two of my siblings got into serious accident. My other brother whom my father wanted him to be a doctor was suspended from U. Mom spent all her time worrying.
Therefore, I did not have much pleasant memories except for this clock that needs winding every single day. It became a ritual to me because if the grandfather clock is not wind, we will not be able to tell time. Until today, memories of grandfather clocks remain my companion because they chime, ding-dong and needs attention. Almost human. However, I couldn't afford one because my current apartment has no room for it.