Tethered
One afternoon, after coming home from school, she pulled me from the dark, velvety recesses of her jewelry box and clasped my lobster claw hook behind her neck. We’ve been together ever since. I have been there for it all, from her first kiss to the death of her beloved hamster. She thinks about twenty years from now when she plans to wear me as her ‘something blue,’ a visual representation of her love and assurance as she walks down the aisle. Always tethered. For now, though, whenever she seeks comfort or wants to look back on the adventures she’s lived, she knows that she can always reach up and find me so we can remember the beauty of a life well-lived, together.
Her mother purchased me one morning during a trip home to Barbados and passed me over to her daughter as a keepsake. She was too young to remember, so when people ask about the pendant she always wears, she makes up a quick story of our history. Sometimes, I am an heirloom. Others, a token she spotted on a park bench. Instead, she’s always sure to emphasize our history after putting me on. That history I symbolize, everything she’s ever loved and lost, makes me important, and it’s why she will always wear me around her neck.
That’s why, even though neither of us knows it yet, tomorrow will be so painful. You see, the chain which I’ve hung from for all these memories is rusted, and sometime during her walk to work tomorrow, I will become snagged in a slick strand of hair, and she will unknowingly tear me loose. My free-fall to the grass below will be muddled by the downpour. It will be my first taste of independence in years, the first time I get to see her walk away. And, oh, how grown she’s become! She walks with so much confidence these days, nothing like the scared little girl that clutched me every night for reassurance when she first put me on. She will be a beautiful, miserable sight. Her form, obscured by both rain and distance, will move confidently onward without me.
I’ll wonder, tomorrow, whether she’ll catch herself in the mirror and pull her hair to the side. Whether she’ll notice something is off and find that I’m gone, cuing a panicked search for me where she frantically retraces her steps, or whether she’ll feel her smooth skin and look at her pretty hair as she rearranges it, surprised by how well she’s grown up.
The rain will turn to snow, and that snow will melt, sinking me a bit further into the ground. Eventually, another little girl will catch a glint of something in the ground and unbury me, and I will be her special good luck charm, so pretty compared to the costume jewelry her father buys her for playing pretend and dress-up. She will put me on and take me off and forget all about her special good luck charm, until she one day digs me up again to become an heirloom for her sweet granddaughter, who will then gift me through a thousand more memories. My chain will be replaced many times, and I will become grimy and worn, shiny and renewed. I will see so many lifetimes of dour moments and unfathomable warmth, hoping to someday make peace with all that I have loved and lost.
Bailey Yeager (she/her) is a senior studying English, Creative Writing, and Philosophy at Siena College in Loudonville, NY. When not writing, Bailey enjoys spending quality time with her family and learning to play the harmonica. “Tethered” is her first publication.