It started with a gust of wind—and a single, glittering mistake. I was rushing through the farmers’ market on a crisp Saturday morning, arms loaded with a canvas bag of apples and a crumpled list, when the breeze swept in. It tangled in my hair, knocked a carton of strawberries off a vendor’s table, and—before…
The jade bracelet sat in the bottom of my grandmother’s jewelry box, its green surface dulled by dust, as if it had been hiding for decades. I found it last summer, while clearing out her attic after she moved to a retirement home—an old wooden box, lined with peeling silk, stuffed with vintage brooches, a…
The first time I held Grandma’s pearl necklace, I was 12 years old, sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor. The jewelry box, a chipped wooden thing with a velvet lining that smelled like lavender and time, creaked open to reveal it: a strand of creamy white pearls, each one slightly imperfect, strung on a thin…