Always start the waterworks.
Even at crowded restaurants.
To know.... it's a piece,
Of my Mommy Jean
Shaking, beaming, crying
As that slim white gold clasp
click... for the first time.
A feather's weight
Instantly at home on my collarbone.
Slit-eyes red and swollen
That pendant-spot between my breasts
Scratched and red
From shaking hands,
Grasping for anything to ground me.
Tremblingly closing that slim white gold clasp
click echoing with tears
And down the hallway,
To my last door on the right
Dropping it and a gasp
Hands immediately undoing
the circular clasp at my neck
Frantically grabbing the chain on my dresser
Breathing slowing as the heavier chain,
But lighter pendant comes to a rest
click and my breathing becomes regular
Sighing as I flop into bed. Home.
Self-consciously smoothing the white lace
Eyes drifting to a picture in the mirror
A beautiful black-and-white
Of a laughing beauty
"Four generations, beautiful." Mom says gently
Eyebrows gathering in confusion
Her soft footsteps behind me
click smiling, knowingly
Four generations of love and legacy.
Gentle touches across my skin
Eyes fluttering open to a smiling face
“I love watching you sleep”
Slowly nodding, snuggling back into our bed
Fading back into slumber…
Dreaming of diamonds
Nestled in obsidian gold
Only to be ‘roused by a kiss to my cheek,
click of the ebony metal
“A new ritual, my wife.”
A gorgeous princess,
On the eve of her Sweet Sixteen
Beaming up at him
“I’m so proud of you”
Brushing her hair from her neck
“And I know she would be too.”
Then laying a tender kiss to her temple
click of the vintage white gold clasp
“Six generations, my little lovely lady.”