It was always in the entryway of the main house, welcoming all the family members. From Motul they took it to Mérida, and from there it emigrated to Monterrey. Brown, serious, with a hard Roman face, it had a simple design, an elegant one. Without a doubt it was always appreciated and envied.

They brought it from a company called Ansonia, in New York, at the beginning of the twentieth century. At that time it was one of the most precise models available, thanks to the marvelous pendulum that swung harmoniously inside its sleek chamber.

It was not more than two meters tall and a little less than forty centimeters wide. With great pride it chimed every quarter-hour and religiously at the top of the hour.

The clock marked many of the family’s happy moments: the hour of births, the hour of weddings, the hour of victories. But it also marked times of suffering: the interminable hours of loss, both human and material.

After being a loyal and punctual witness, the old clock said farewell little by little to each of the family members, with such profound sadness that nothing, not even time itself, could completely remove.