Sofia hadn’t been back to her grandfather’s home since the funeral six months earlier. The old house, with its creaking floors and ivy-covered windows, still smelled of sawdust, oil, and faintly of the cologne he always wore. Her grandfather had been a watchmaker, spending hours at his workbench surrounded by tiny tools, magnifying glasses, and the rhythmic tick of antique clocks.
Today, though, nostalgia wasn’t her purpose. She had come to sort through what was left, to decide what to keep, donate, or let go. In the corner of his workshop, a small, weathered box caught her eye. It had her name written on it in his tidy, looping handwriting.
Inside was a small circular piece of metal, not much bigger than a coin. Sofia recognized it immediately—a balance wheel from a clock. The edge was delicately notched, and in the center, tiny radial lines extended outward, giving it the appearance of a miniature wheel. Beneath it was a folded scrap of paper:
"The wheel turns for all of us. Trust its motion. Keep it close."
She turned the balance wheel over in her hands, the smooth metal cool against her skin. She’d seen her grandfather work on hundreds of these pieces, carefully cleaning or adjusting them to ensure they moved smoothly. She couldn’t imagine why he’d left this one for her.
The Workshop’s Secrets
Later that afternoon, Sofia sifted through her grandfather’s notebooks. The pages were filled with sketches and meticulous notes on gears, springs, and wheels. One page caught her attention — a detailed drawing of a balance wheel, with words like cycles, motion, and resilience scribbled in the margins.
Sofia smiled, remembering how he used to talk about the poetry of timepieces. “Every part of a watch depends on the others,” he’d say. “The balance wheel regulates the motion, keeping everything steady. Without it, the whole thing falls apart.”
A memory surfaced from a summer afternoon when she was nine. She had broken the glass face of an old pocket watch he’d been restoring. Tearfully, she apologized, fearing his anger. Instead, he’d crouched beside her, holding the shattered pieces.
“This watch has seen worse,” he’d said with a chuckle. “It just needs care to keep going. You’ll see—the wheel always turns.”
The Holiday Feast
That evening, Sofia joined her family for their holiday feast. The dining table stretched across the room, crowded with dishes: roasted vegetables, warm bread, and her aunt’s famous pecan pie. The hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filled the air, creating a warmth that made the house feel alive again.
As Sofia looked around, she saw the cycles her grandfather had cherished reflected in the people gathered here—the shared memories, the inside jokes, and the way they always returned to each other, year after year.
Her fingers brushed the balance wheel in her pocket. She’d slipped it in before leaving the workshop, drawn to its weight and quiet presence. It reminded her of her grandfather’s words: The wheel turns for all of us.
A New Beginning
After the feast, Sofia returned to the workshop. She wasn’t ready to let it go. The space, with its scattered tools and half-finished projects, felt too alive to abandon.
She sat at the workbench and picked up the balance wheel, holding it carefully between her fingers. It was mesmerizing — the way the tiny notches caught the light, the precision of its form. She thought about the hours her grandfather must have spent repairing similar pieces, ensuring that time moved smoothly for others.
She realized then that the balance wheel wasn’t just a piece of a clock—it was a reminder of her grandfather’s belief in motion, in resilience. He had trusted her with it for a reason, though the meaning was hers to decide.
Sofia threaded a thin chain through one of the notches and slipped it around her neck. It rested just above her heart, warm and steady, like a quiet reassurance. She didn’t need to understand everything now; she just needed to keep moving, one turn at a time.
The next morning, Sofia packed up some of her grandfather’s tools and sketches. She decided to keep the workshop as it was—not as a space to work, but as a sanctuary where she could feel close to him. The balance wheel stayed around her neck, a small, constant reminder of the life lessons he’d passed down.
As she locked the door behind her, she heard the faint echo of the clocks in the room, their ticking blending into the rhythm of her own steps. The wheel turns for all of us, she thought. And now, it was turning her toward something new.
This story of Sofia is one shared by one of our cherished customers. Her heartfelt memory of her grandfather, a watchmaker who left her a balance wheel as a symbol of resilience and motion, deeply moved us. Inspired by her story, we designed the Fortune’s Turn Pendant—a piece that captures the hopeful turns of life and the boundless opportunities that come with each change. It’s a celebration of connection, legacy, and the beauty of moving forward.
This year may be hard, but "it just needs care to keep going. You’ll see—the wheel always turns."
May your holiday be filled with warmth, love, and the gentle turning of moments that bring hope and joy.
Happy holidays, from our table to yours.
