The Pocket Watch

This is a story about an old silver pocket watch. It begins in the middle.

My sister gave me the pocket watch last Thursday. She said it had belonged to Joe, our dad. She said our mum gave it to her 28 years ago when dad died.

Aha! Why didn't mum give it to me?

That would be because straight after dad died, mum visited my sister who at that time lived in Scotland. She would have taken the pocket watch to give my sister as a keepsake. She would have said to me, although I don't remember, I'm going to take this pocket watch and give it to your sister, as a keepsake, I'm sure you don't mind. I would have said, no I don't mind, and then begun to wonder if I should mind, since she'd asked.

Unless she didn't ask.

So, the pocket watch remained in Scotland until it came back to Australia with my sister. And it rested in its little blue silk cotton-lined purse for all those years, moving from Adelaide to Port Douglas to Wardell, with her.

Until last Thursday, when she gave it to me, saying, this belonged to dad, I think it was his father's or his grandfather's. Then she opened up the back and showed me the name engraved inside: Samuel Craig. Not dad's name, but his brother's.

Was that dad's father's name, asked my sister. No, I said, his name was Joseph too. Well maybe it belonged to his father's brother, said my sister, or his grandfather. Mum will know.

But when I brought the pocket watch home to Adelaide, and showed it to our mum, she didn't know.

to be continued.......