I bought my oldest kid his first watch today.
He loves when we ask what time it is.
He can read the hands, and that alone thrills him. Thrills us too.
My grandmother bought me my first watch and taught me how to read it.
It felt like a special ability, and it was.
It marked the beginning of understanding that at certain hours, certain things would happen: recess, lunch, dinner, my favorite TV show.
Time became a map of anticipation. It also marked the beginning of something else: waiting, running late.
As an adult, the magic of glancing at my wrist to know what comes next got diluted: by my phone, by the clock on my computer, by the time glowing from my car’s dashboard.
Time is everywhere now. Less a map than a meter running.
But watching my son discover it fresh, I remember what it felt like when time first became visible, before it became visible everywhere, before it started measuring me back.
I’m handing him a gift that will one day feel like a leash.
That’s the job.