A/N: I don't own anything, just the plot & the grandfather clock. I originally wrote this as an English assignment and I got an A+. I hope you like it. Stephanie Meyer owns Bella.

Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong! Ding! It's six o'clock in the evening and it's time for grandmother to take her medication. I watch her as she slowly makes her way pass me and into the kitchen. The house is silent except for the ticking of my hands. I hear the creak of her chair as she pulls it out and sits down with a sigh. I can see her down the hall from where I am. Her long gray hair cascading down her shoulders and is dressed in her favorite pink bathrobe. She has this sad yet dazed expression on her face as she absentmindedly stirs her cup of tea. I know that look far too well. It is the look she has on when she is remembering, remembering of her past. Whenever I see her like this, I can't help but to remember of the life I had with her too.

I was a wedding gift from a friend. I can remember the feel of the gift wrapping paper being ripped off of me but by bit until I can see again. The first sight that I saw was of her joyful face as she admired me. Her husband was leaning casually against the wall behind her, watching his wife with amusement and love. I watched with a mental smile as she stood before me, scrutinizing my ever position as her husband would grunt and huff whenever he had to move me. When I was finally in my perfect place, which was by the staircase, which is where I have stayed for all this time.

Years later, I can still remember when the couple had to rush out of the house. It was exactly seven thirty in the evening on a Tuesday when it happened. Her breathes were erratic and came out in short, quick pants as her husband helped lead her way out through the front door and into the car. She was eight and a half months along her pregnancy and I guess that the baby had decided that it was ready to come out into the world. I hadn't seen either of them for weeks and worried over the health of the baby. By the end of the second week, I heard a car pull up to the driveway and I began to feel anxious as the front door slowly opened. All of my worries from before were quickly extinguished once I saw her step through the door, cradling a sleeping baby girl in her arms. I was there to watch that same little girl grow up to be a beautiful young woman just like her mother. I was there as her little brother and later on; a little sister was brought home. I watched as the family grew through the years, but also how the family slowly drifted apart.

It was just about ten years ago, the children have already moved out and began to live their lives. They come by every now and then, sometimes bringing their own children along. It was a quiet Sunday morning, the sun had just risen a few hours ago. I could hear a rustling sound upstairs, telling me that the couple were just waking up and would be coming down soon. There was a deafening silence for a while until I heard a blood curdling scream echo throughout the house which was followed by a heart wrenching sob. Then I heard the sound of rustling footsteps tumble down the stairs as she blindly fumbled her way towards the phone on the table across from me. She hastily dialed the number, biting her lip to hold back another sob. She paused for a moment before speaking into the phone.

"Sweetie is that you? I'm sorry to wake you but I have something important to tell you," she whispered quietly.

"What is it mom?" asked her daughter, Lucy, from the other end of the phone groggily. She then drew in a shaky breath before continuing.

"It's you father, honey. He just passed away in his sleep." She had spoke in the same whispered tone as before, not daring to speak any louder in risk of lettingout a sob.

"Oh my god, Mom, don't worry I will be there as soon as I can," she replied, worriedly.

"Can you tell your brother and sister too?" She requested, thinking of the pain she would have to go through again if she told her other children of the news.

"Of course I will, Mom," she said.

"Thank you. And I will see you soon, I love you," she said, her voice quivering.

"I love you, too, Mom," she said and then hung up. Even though she had hung up, grandmother still held the phone to her ear for a while longer until slowly lowering it down back to its receiver. She leaned her back to the wall, drawing in a shaky gasp as she slid down the wall and onto the floor. She wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest as she curled up into a ball. She let out the cries that she has been holding in wrack through her body. The sound echoed throughout the house. She had stayed in that same position until her children arrived to help their mother. They helped arrange the funeral and helped get her back onto her feet again. It took awhile for things to get back to be somewhat normal and she has been taking each day a step at a time.

I was broken out of my memories and back into the present by the scraping of her wooden chair as she pushed it back. I heard the clattering of dishes in the sink and the shuffle of footsteps coming closer. The light to the kitchen was switched off and I could see her coming towards me. When she passed me, I could see the glimmer of a single tear fall down her cheek. She then made her way up the stairs. I could hear the creak of the door to her bedroom as it was pushed open and the squeak of the springs of her bed as she lay down in it. Soon I could hear the faint sound of her steady breathing as she sleeps.

Oh my dear, time has no end. It is an endless circle with many emotions. It is unpredictable as the sea. At times the water may seem calm, but in an instant it can change into a violent storm. There are unexpected surprises and tragedies that everyone must deal with. There is pain along with the happiness and always the good with the bad. And though I may be the teller of time and the holder of it, I do not have the power to redo events even if I wished. For everything in the world, I wish that I can take away all of your suffering and all of your pain and only leave you with happiness and joy, my dear, Isabella.

I hope you liked it. Please R&R.