When I was very young, my grandmother lived in Brantford, Ontario in a little house that my dad actually grew up in. I loved going to visit her because as a young child I would delight in scampering through the dusty rooms and investigating the old, forgotten treasures that littered the floor and the walls. Although the basement always held a high amount of interest in my young mind, with its decaying boardgames from my dad's childhood and boxes of nick-nacks piled high, my favourite piece within the house was her cuckoo clock.
My little sister and I would sit in front of it for literally hours, waiting for the little bird to poke his head out of the door and chirp at me. We were both far too young to tell time, so the mystery of when we would be able to see his little yellow head enthralled me and we would sit in anxious happiness. If we were especially good that day, my dad would turn the white hands around the clock and force the bird to come out of his little door. My sister and I would squeal with delight at what could only be assumed to be magic, clapping our hands and begging for my dad to do it one more time.
My grandmother got older and soon she was unable to handle the stairs in the house and taking care of herself became too much of a chore. My parents decided to put her in a home that was significantly closer to our town so that we could keep more of an eye on her. But in a home, all of her treasures would never fit, so my dad and my uncle held a garage sale one afternoon. Of course, the cuckoo clock was one of the first items to go, and because I was in school that day I wasn't able to see it go. I cried bitterly with the thought that I was not even given the opportunity to say goodbye to it.
Time passed, and I am now turning twenty-three. I had all but forgotten about the clock until I wandered into an antique shop down the road from me. I often walk through the store without really looking, but this time I saw the clock on the wall. Just in, a beautiful wooden cuckoo clock was hanging on the wall. With anxious breath, I asked if it was fully functioning, and like my dad had done so many years ago, the man turned the hands of the clock and a little bird popped out the door.
Needless to say, he is making a fantastic addition to my home.