A gift that changed my outlook

I like to think I’m above coveting worldly possessions. But, sometimes, the stories attached to something are so seductive that you have to make an exception. Take the wristwatch that I have just bought, for instance.

The Christmas of 2008 was the last festive season that my late father and I spent together. He adored Christmas – the rituals, the goodwill, the love that is part and parcel of the holidays. That year I received a wristwatch – something that I never wore as an adult. But this gift changed my outlook.

As I told my dad, I was smitten by the idea of wearing something akin to a little live animal on my wrist, a machine that could tell the time. It was almost as if I owned time itself, I explained to him during what proved to be our last real conversation before he died six weeks later.

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That watch triggered an addiction. I started collecting wristwatches and my collection grew over the years: three, five, a dozen… During the heated conversations that marked my divorce negotiations with my first wife five years later, most of my collection was demolished.

I don’t wish to go into the details, but I can mention a hammer was involved. Most of those watches were just watches. A few had sentimental value and I managed to replace some over the years. But not that very special first one – I searched for 10 years, but couldn’t find that particular model anywhere. Until this week.

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I browsed around on Facebook Marketplace and then suddenly … lo and behold, a picture of that elusive first watch just popped up. Exactly the same as my old one. I contacted the seller and he even brought it to my office. It was spotless – still in its box and obviously only worn a handful of times.

“I’m sad,” he told me. “I don’t really want to sell it, but I need the money.”

Eventually I paid him a bit more than the asking price. I hope the money buys him a bit of breathing space. To me, it’s money well spent. I don’t see it as mere bling on my arm. I bought a palpable reminder of that last conversation with my father.

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Last night I wore a smile when I went to bed. After 10 years, that memory was ticking in my watch box.