The image that kicked off this memory.
While looking for Valentine's Day images this week, I found this photo of the word love spelled out in alphabet beads. I think of these as baby beads. When my siblings and I were born, the hospital would string these beads into our names and put them on our wrists for identification. The little bracelets went home with us, where my mom, of course, saved them.
My brother Matt, Mom, sister Terri, and myself on the right. I’m the middle child but the oldest of the three of us here.
Later, as an anniversary gift, my father took the beads and used our names to create a lovely bracelet for my mom. It was one of those gifts that could and did blow her away. She cherished this gift, I know because when the day clothes came off and the evening wear went on, so did that bracelet. My parents weren't wealthy, but the one thing my mom had that some of her peers didn't was a husband who adored her and still saw her as his one and only. They always hugged, and it was easy to catch them kissing. I remember their bedroom door locked, and I remember when I realized why. It's been a long while, and whenever I need some mom time, I pull it out, and it takes me back to sitting on her bed, watching her get dressed, and being the one to clasp the bracelet on. Little did my dad know he was also gifting his girls, who share custody of the bracelet and endless memories of helping her prepare and select jewelry.
The bracelet my dad had made as a wedding anniversary gift.