I had my first assignment in my Creative Writing: Non-Fiction class. It was a writing prompt and we had to write a true (hence non-fiction) 2-page story about an object that reminds us of someone or something; some sort of memory.
I thought I would share the exercise with all of you in case any of you writers want to give it a go. I enjoyed doing it and the writing came very easy to me. Here’s mine at 690 words. Enjoy.
I love jewelry. I really do, but I don’t wear it as often as I would like. Being a preschool teacher, it’s hard to wear jewelry to work just in case a child decides to play with a necklace around my neck or even to tug at an earring and rip it out. So I don’t even bother.
I do have a lot of jewelry, though. I have many dangling earrings; a few necklaces are that dear to me, and a lot of bracelets that I can’t wear because my wrists are too small. I wear them on special occasions and certain holidays when I get dolled up every once in a while, but there’s one bracelet in particular that I never wear.
Despite my wrists being too small I can actually wear this bracelet and I used to—all the time. It was a pretty bracelet and went with just about any of my clothes despite the blue gems. It was small—my size, with alternating round silver and blue gems. Blue is my favorite color and I always liked silver more than gold. Of course, it’s so old that the silver has tarnished and doesn’t sparkle like it used to.
In the middle of these gems were six silver blocked beads, each one baring a letter; R-A-C-H-E-L. I had never had a piece of jewelry that had my name on it, so I was excited when I got it for my 10th birthday. It was personal and I felt as though the bracelet officially belonged to me.
My aunt, Theresa, gave me that bracelet as my birthday present. She gave my two older sisters each a similar bracelet when they turned 10-years-old, so I was kind of expecting something like it; yet, I was still surprised when I opened the small box. Auntie Theresa’s friend made jewelry—whether it was a hobby or it was her job, I don’t recall—but my aunt asked her to make something special for her three nieces for their first double-digit birthday.
I wore the bracelet all the time, even to school. Then, two years later, just two days after my 12th birthday, Auntie Theresa passed away from a sudden brain aneurysm. She was only 32-years-old leaving her husband and two daughters (at the time ages 3 and 1) behind. It was a shock for everyone and certainly a tough time to get through. I kept a closer eye on my bracelet since then, but continued to wear it in her memory.
Then, one day at school in art class, I felt my wrist—I was always touching and playing with the bracelet. The bracelet was gone and I could feel my face flush.
“Where is it, where is it?!” I demanded in alarm.
“Where’s what? Where’s what?” My friend jumped up from her seat only panicking because I was. She looked all around the floor because I was on my hands and knees searching for something she didn’t know what to look for.
The bracelet was on the other side of the art room. It must have fallen off when I went to the sink to wash my paint brush and rinse out my paint cups. For the rest of the day I left the bracelet in my pocket. The clasp wasn’t very good and it fell off a lot at home, but I never imagined it would fall off anywhere else. It was that moment I realized if it fell off at school or someplace else, chances were I’d never find it again and it would be gone forever, just like my aunt.
The bracelet has been sitting in my jewelry box ever since. I want to keep it safe with all my other jewelry. I take it out and look at it every once in a while, but I don’t wear it anywhere in fear of losing it; even if it is just around the house.
Maybe one day I’ll get the clasp fixed and get it shined once more. In the meantime, I’ll always know where the bracelet is and I’m able to keep it near and dear.