My father’s birthday was approaching, and I had a problem.
Not the “I forgot his birthday” kind.
The much harder kind.
What do you buy a man who buys everything he needs for himself?
My dad is one of those men. If he needs something, he buys it. If he wants something, he probably already has it. And if he doesn’t have it?
Well… there’s probably a very good reason.
The Birthday Gift Rabbit Hole
I started with the usual suspects.
A shirt.
A tie.
Something nice to drink.
Perfectly lovely gifts, but nothing that made me think, “Oh, this is so him.”
I wanted something thoughtful. Something with a little personality. Something that wouldn't disappear into the birthday-gift pile five minutes after he opened it.
So I went looking.
And looking.
And, naturally, finding absolutely nothing.
Then I Walked Into Made By Yuli
I had passed Made By Yuli in Port Harcourtbefore, so I decided to pop in.
I wandered around looking at the handcrafted décor and gifts, hoping something would jump out at me.
And then, suddenly, it clicked.
Wait.
There was one thing my dad actually uses all the time.
His journal.
Of course.
His study desk has a small collection of them—leather-bound notebooks filled with thoughts, plans, lists and the occasional thing he absolutely must not forget.
Why had I not thought of that sooner?
Now I just needed to find the right one.
And Then I Saw It
There it was: a handcrafted Father’s Journal sitting quietly on one of the display tables.
I picked it up.
And that was pretty much it.
We had found each other.
What caught my attention was the beautiful Igbo-inspired design. The cultural details were subtle, but they gave the journal so much character.
My dad is a proud Igbo man, so suddenly this wasn't just another notebook.
It felt familiar.
It felt intentional.
It felt like something chosen specifically for him.
And isn't that what makes a gift special?
I Almost Made It Even More Personal
The receptionist mentioned that they could add his name to the journal too.
For approximately three seconds, I considered it.
But honestly, the design already said so much.
So I left it just as it was.
Along with a few other little finds from the store, it went into my carefully assembled birthday package.
Mission accomplished.
Or so I thought.
Then Came the Unwrapping
On his birthday, once the usual birthday chaos had settled down, I handed him the package.
He opened it.
And stopped.
He ran his hand over the cover, opened the journal and smiled.
Not the polite “Thank you, my daughter” smile.
The other one.
The quiet one.
The one that tells me I've actually managed to get something right.
Then he asked where I'd found it, fascinated by the craftsmanship and the cultural details.
Apparently, Everyone Else Had Opinions Too
It didn't take long for the rest of the family to notice.
Someone picked it up.
Then someone else wanted to see it.
Then another person asked where I had bought it.
Before long, the journal was making its way around the room like it had accidentally become the guest of honour.
And I understood something.
Sometimes the best gifts aren't the loudest ones.
They're the ones that make someone pause.
The ones that feel like they were chosen for them.
By the end of the day, the journal had found its place on my dad's main side table.
Which, in my family, is basically a five-star review.
- Amara