My watch had been broken for months before I finally took it in for repair. Moisture had accumulated under the glass and then I dropped it and all of the hour marks fell off and were loose in the case, sometimes making it difficult to tell the difference between, say, 1:30 pm and 2:30 pm. No time to take it in, I told myself, as I rushed through my days. Finally, I forced myself to the Fossil store to drop it off for repair. I hated leaving it there because I knew that it would be three weeks before the repaired watch would be sent to me. By the time I had walked to my car in the parking lot, I had attempted to check the time on my bare wrist three times. It would be a long three weeks.
My watch is my constant companion, keeping me on schedule as I maneuver through each day. In the morning, as I rush about preparing us for the day, I check that watch as I bark out commands to the boys to get dressed and brush teeth, decide how much time I have to devote to hair and makeup for that day, check to see if I have time to fold that load of laundry before I leave for work, and double-check that lunches and water bottles have made it in to backpacks before final departure. Each workday, I rely on that watch to keep me on time with patients, my entire workday metered out in 30 minute appointments. And after work, that watch tells me that I have precious few minutes to pick up the preschooler if I want to make it to the big boys’ school on time. When we return home, the watch tells me that it is time to cook dinner, time to leave for soccer practice, time to oversee packing lunches and homework, time for showers, time to brush teeth. And at the end of a long, exhausting day it tells me that it is only 9 o’clock, but I go to bed anyway.
The days go so quickly in the endless cycle of getting ready for the day, working, meal prep, dishes, laundry, sports practice, homework, showers, bedtime and I must check that watch hundreds of times as I power through. The last three weeks, I have struggled without my timekeeper and I have anxiously awaited the return of my watch.
Earlier this week, I received a letter stating that my watch could not be repaired and that I would, instead, receive the replacement cost as a gift card to be used at Fossil. I spent the next several hours on the Fossil website obsessing over which watch to choose. I finally made a selection and as I was completing my order, I noticed my second favorite four-letter-F-word: Free. As in free engraving. Now, I cannot pass up something that is free. But what would you engrave on a watch for yourself? I muddled over words in my head before I came up with the perfect phrase.
If I have learned anything in these past three weeks, it is that I check that watch somewhat obsessively, sometimes dozens of times within an hour. I rely on it to direct through my hectic days. And now when I look at my new watch, I will think about the phrase engraved on the back. “You can’t get it back.”
It will serve as a reminder to me that, though I cannot stop the relentless passage of time, I can be present in the moment. I can stress less and enjoy more. I can look at my kids and realize that today is the only day that they will be exactly as they are right now, for they will grow bigger and older by tomorrow. I can remember to not sweat the small stuff, but focus on the big important things like spending time with family and friends, making memories. I can fill my days with more smiles, more laughter, more patience, more understanding, more kindness. Time is so precious, and at the end of each long day, I will remember that tomorrow is not guaranteed.
Checking my watch is a habit that I have grown accustomed to; it keeps my (slightly neurotic) type-A self on schedule each day. I am hoping that, now, it will also remind me to spend my time wisely.