A Curious Watch
Minnie had always disliked war, ever since she was five years old and the first bomb dropped over Scotland.
She could stand the blacked-out windows, that she could no longer peek out of during church to watch the sun rise over the fields of Bell Heather. She could stand marching over the hills to the school with her little brothers in fear while clutching a gas mask. She could stand the rations and get only 60 grams of sweets per week. But Minnie could not stand the bodies.
Her daddy used to take her fishing in the harbor on Sundays after he had finished preaching. That tradition had screeched to a halt as soon as the dead bodies from the sunken ships appeared.
She was only seven years old the first time a dead soldier washed ashore. But Minnie remembered it as though it had happened just an hour before.
The bluish skin that was shriveled up like a prune. The empty brown eyes had been stripped of all emotion. And the watch. The little silver watch that had been tortured by the sea but strangely remained ticking now floats on the cerulean water.
The small girl had looked up at her daddy in shock, her curious green eyes now coated with sadness. The tall but slender man snatched the girl up into a hug stronger than a thousand bombs. “Don’t you fret, Minnie. He rests by God in heaven.” Her daddy then spoke a hopeful prayer. “Dear God, our Savior! Please welcome this poor man in your arms, as no one deserves to receive the fate of death in war.”
He then scooped up the miracle watch from the water and held out his hand. “My Minnie, will you please give me your arm?” And she obediently held out her forearm. Her daddy delicately secured the watch to her tiny wrist and then gave her a sad smile.
Minnie carefully flipped the watch to peer at the engraving. In elegant cursive, it said, “Dearest Cat, may this watch be a symbol of my love, and as long as it is attached to your wrist, may it protect you.”
Her daddy softly whispered to her, “Let this be a reminder that strength lies in emotion.”