Beautiful

Today, Allie played “dress up” and asked (It’s a RULE!) if she could get into my jewelry box. I said yes. 

Now, let me tell you — my jewelry box is not an orderly place. It’s more a lot of “This” and “That.” Much of what is in it belonged to my Grandma Helga “Betty” — whose birthday (She would’ve turned 99!) was June 21st, the day before my daughter’s.

Allie poked around, looking for just the right “something” to go with her mismatched outfit. And the jewelry she chose was perfectly mismatched, as well.

Several strands of beads. A string of pearls. A bracelet. A ring. And beaded, clip-on earrings.

There. She was satisfied.

“How do I look, Momma?”

“Beautiful.”

Pleased, she skipped off to play with her pretend friends.

“Oh, your jewelry is SO lovely,” I thought I heard her say.

“Why, THANK YOU very much!”

(And so on.)

After awhile, she was done — announcing, “I’m hungry! Let’s eat lunch.”

I told her that she had to pick up all the jewelry before we went downstairs. (Another RULE!)

“But I’m REALLY hungry,” she moaned. Still, she took off much of the frill by herself and put it away.

“Can you help me with these?” she asked, fingering the necklaces still adorning her neck.

“Sure,” I replied. “You know, some of these belonged to your Great Grandma Betty — Nana’s mommy.” I touched the black beads gingerly — remembering.

“I never met Grandma Betty — did I, Momma?” Allie asked.

“No, Honey. She passed away before you came to live with us. She’s in Heaven now.”

“How’d she die?”

“Oh, she was very old,” I said. “Her heart just stopped working.”

And with that, my ‘de-bejewelled’ daughter — the one who never met my precious Grandma, though I wish she had — skipped off to rummage in the frig, her tummy rumbling.

And I was left, though only for a moment, with my memories.

Me — the little girl sitting with my grandma and her jewelry box, trying on her necklaces and earrings and rings.

“Do I look beautiful?” I’m sure I asked.

And Grandma — she always said, “Yes.”