My collection is very small but very rich with specific memories. A doll from my childhood. A program from my wedding. A hat my babies wore. The Bible given to Ashley by a nurse who said she’d live when the doctors didn’t think so. A few love notes from my man. Liberian passports of my boys signaling their journey home with us. Favorite pictures from my kids.
I treasure these trinkets. They stop time and help me capture moments slipped by. They hold memories that hold me.
Recently, I found another.
This one is different than all the rest. It has no significant memory attached to it yet. It’s a bracelet.
Three strands of simple pearls- some darker, some white, some misshaped, some smooth, all beautiful. So much like life really. Our days dotted with many kinds of moments that make for a beautiful collective whole if we choose to see it that way.
And three. I have 5 kids, three of them girls.
I have a special momento for my two boys but I’ve been looking for something of tradition for my girls.
And there, tucked away in a little shop, a jewelry artist crafted the exact right piece. It wouldn’t ever be found in the expensive jewelry stores. The pearls aren’t perfect enough. And that’s precisely why I love it so. For I think it’s imperfections beg the eye to look at each individual pearl and see the unique beauty tucked within.
See what the artist saw as she specifically chose each pearl and placed it just so, just so. Determined to create something to truly be seen rather than glanced over.
All brought together with a simple heart clasp, silver with a blue stone.
A simple piece of beauty begging to be worn on days to be remembered. A dance. A graduation. A ceremony.
A day when something blue is in order.
It won’t belong to one of us, but rather three sisters and a mom. Connected. Unique. Imperfect. Together. Beautiful.