I once had trouble falling asleep with my watch lying on the bedroom bureau. It was strange because I can doze off while hearing the explosive shootouts of Westerns or the blood curdling screams of slashers. And yet, I could not close my eyes and rest with that constant infuriating tick. One night I placed that watch on my bureau and crept into bed. I tried to dream and imagine something peaceful like raindrops hitting my window or the rustingly of trees in the wind. And yet, my imagination nor the protective presence of blankets could mask the endless ticking of that meticulous mechanism that never sleeps.

My parents gave me my watch on my 15th birthday. It is a coming of age practice that my father and grandfather also experienced. Aptly named Tradition, Tissot described it as “a watch that will remain a timeless piece on a man’s wrist.” The dial is jet black with golden Roman numerals perfectly placed around the circumference of the circular face. The proud bold white letters of TISSOT and the year 1853 fall directly below the twelfth hour. The date of the month lies adjacent to the third. All this time, the analytical golden hour, minute, and second hands continue their endless journey around the face. A stainless steel case and sapphire crystal covering encapsulates the fragile hands from the dangers of the outside world. Over two years later the black leather strap has become worn while the silver buckle battered with scratches. Nevertheless, the hands continue, never a second too late, always ticking forward. I’ve come to wear this watch during every meal, class, and conversation of my day. This vigilant companion has become a timeless piece of my wrist.

I later came to realize the true importance of this watch. On one summer day, not too long after I received my watch, I visited the National Gallery in London. There, I remember gazing at a painting of young man holding a skull. He appeared to be a figure from the Renaissance as he wore an archaic red cap with a long pink plume hanging from it. But it was the skull in his hand that attracted my attention. Both the old empty sockets of the skull and the youthful bright eyes of the young man were glancing in the same direction. Since I saw that painting I discovered that during those times, many men owned a skull to remind them of their inevitable destination. Certainly an empty skull must have petrified some of those men. But perhaps it motivated others to focus on the important things and not waste time on trivial matters. Their skull had come to be my watch.

A watch can remind us of our next appointment or our upcoming lunch break. But it can also remind us of the time we have spent or the time we have left in the test, the class, the hour, or even day. Have I spent this time well? How much more time is there? When I lay in bed with that watch on that bureau, those two questions revolved in my head. Despite wearing my watch all day, this was the first time it had confronted me. It did not criticize. It did not judge. It simply presented the time.

Some may think that this a morbid or melancholy. However, this watch does not merely remind me of when fate will cut the thread of life. My watch also propels me forward into the coming day. It now prompts me to jump out of bed and forge ahead. It is my faithful map. And so, all in all, I recommend that you invest in a watch. Tonight, I will sleep much easier with mine ticking in the bedroom.