I'm not referring to my soul - that would be quite a lengthy post. I'm talking about the rebirth of my favorite necklace.
Let's just start this story with the understatement that I am not good with jewelry. I lose it; especially if it has any value. My jewelry box (which lies under the bed untouched for 6 months at a time) is filled with one earring of every variety. I can't be lucky enough to lose both, it's always one.
I think jewelry is beautiful, but only on other people. I have a hard time wearing anything bigger than stud earrings, it looks, well... cluttered. I have to make a conscious effort to wear bracelets or change necklaces or more than one ring. I think to myself, "Alexis, you're a grown woman and you never wear any of this stuff. Just put it on and walk out the door. Don't double check it in the mirror. If there's ever a time to wear diamonds or pearls or gemstones - it would be this wedding, ballet, opera, etc." I make it half-way through whatever event I'm attending before the excess jewelry is at the bottom of my purse.
With my track record, I had thought it couldn't get any lower than losing my engagement ring. Let me be more specific: my grandmother's one-of-a-kind miracle mount diamond engagement ring. I lasted about two years before somehow losing the diamond while still wearing the band. I looked down at work one day and it was GONE. In a retail store. Somewhere between the cash register and the storeroom. It was so hopeless, it could only look for a few minutes before making a teary phone call to Gregory. We never found it - in our apartment, the car, the store, anywhere. I now wear a very similar ring that was purchased in the antique section of Thomas Jewelers. It has remained intact for 4 years and counting!
But, while the engagement ring has survived my bling ineptitude - my favorite necklace recently was lost. Gregory had given it to me before we got married, as a celebration of our "1 year" engagement anniversary. It's the perfect necklace for me, a tiny curved piece of silver with delicate diamonds. For it's size, it has always drawn a lot of attention - people always complimented it. It is also the only necklace Gregory has ever gotten for me. Can you blame him? Giving me gifts of silver or gold is a risky endeavour.
It's my fault for taking it off in the first place. I wanted to clean it. I wanted to protect it from Jackson's prying fingers. But I left it on a shelf in the bathroom in July and never saw it again - until a few days ago.
And I certainly can't take any credit for finding it. I had hidden the fact that I couldn't find the necklace at first. It took me about a week to ask Gregory if he'd seen it back in July, hoping that he had and was trying to teach me a necklace-keeping lesson. I was too saddened to really think it was gone. Can't I be trusted with anything? Do I really have to lose jewelry ALL of the time?
This week Gregory began cleaning out his summer shirts and replacing them with winter clothes. At the very very very bottom of his drawer was my necklace. Underneath piles of t-shirts, all the way across the house from the bathroom. How it got there is a complete mystery. It can't be blamed on cats or babies - which most everything usually can be. If there is a ghost moving my stuff like in the Sixth Sense, I'm fine with it - because at least it can be found, if only a few months later.
Now that I have the necklace back, I'm realizing how much I missed it. I missed its' sentimental value. I felt disappointed in myself for losing yet another beautiful piece of jewelry. Thank goodness I have a husband who rotates his summer/winter wear. We might not have uncovered the necklace until we moved from this house. And I just might have given up on jewelry altogether.