Jewellery should tell a story

I remember the day this green and silver ring came into my possession. A part of my great-auntie’s extensive costume jewellery collection, I’d played with it for countless hours as a child, dressing up, mixing and matching and pretending I was a grown up. I remember the orange and brown box the jewellery was kept in, with a large lid and 2 drawers underneath, full to bursting with all the colours, pinks and oranges and golds and her favourite turquoise.
After she died I came to own the costume jewellery. So many memories personified, contained within this collection of trinkets. Remembering her wearing certain pieces, forever linking in my mind with her face, her aura, her being.
Over the years, inevitably most of the collection has gone awry, either finally breaking or finding it’s way to a charity donation box. But nestled in with my own little box of jewellery, lie a few little memories, glinting up at me with promise every time I open the box lid, a whole person embodied in the glint of an eye, a whole, infinitely bigger than the physical object I hold in my gaze.

I wear the ring and carry a part of her with me.