It was my 18th birthday, and like every other girl on the verge of entering adulthood I was super excited as I felt that I have achieved something great. I was inundated with gifts from my near and dear ones. One of the most precious gifts I got was from my father. He gave me a beautiful watch encased in a beautiful watch box. My father told me that he gave me the watch not because I don’t have one, but because he wanted me to understand the value of time. Yes, I abide by his words till today, but what attracted me the most was the watch box. It was of a cream colour with a beautiful, soft and a mini cushion placed inside for the watch to rest. I don’t know why, but on that day I felt that no other gifts I received that day could match up with the watch box. I felt an unknown attraction to it, may be due to the emotion attached to it.
The watch box was like my secret world. I would keep coins which I could save from my pocket money, save my favourite candy which I loved but my mother was scornful about it, and many other small things I felt was my treasure.
Today, when I am settled in a completely other part of the country, I still have the watch box. The wrist watch has worn away due to some reason, but I was over-possessive about the watch box. It was my secret chest. Now, whenever I think of my parents, especially dad but couldn’t allot time to call him up, I talk to my watch box as if I am talking to my father.