Back when we were teenagers, my dad gifted my sister Charlotte and I each a silver and turquoise bracelet. I want to say he got them in Arizona, but that part of the memory is sort of hazy, and actually irrelevant. But he “brought them back” from somewhere he had been, specifically chosen with us in mind. Without a doubt he had put consideration and intent into picking out which bracelet went to which daughter, because that’s the way he was. His gifts always reflected thought.

The one he gave Charlotte was larger and a bit more detailed of the two. Mine was not as ornate. I admit to being slightly envious of her fancier one – initially. But it quickly became clear to me that the smaller and simpler one he had picked out for me suited me better and worked well with the other silver cuffs I wore stacked together. And hers was actually perfect for her.

Charlotte and I had a somewhat acrimonious childhood relationship and our adult connection remained complicated. Thus we grew up and went our separate ways, with vastly different lifestyles, living in vastly different states. While we remained in regular touch, over the years our physical visits were infrequent. But whenever we did see each other, we always happened to show up spontaneously wearing our childhood Dad-gift bracelets – even though neither of us had discussed it beforehand. Upon noticing this, we would look at each other, hold up our wrists and smile knowingly. It was an unspoken bond, one of many unspoken things.

Charlotte left this earth many years ago. Now I have them both.

Occasionally I will wear my own silver cuff, and think of my dad almost every time I put it on. When I wear Charlotte’s turquoise bracelet, it is in tandem with my own. This happens annually on her birthday, at my daughter’s wedding, and at other events where she should have been present.

Recently on her birthday, I took them out of the little pouch I keep them stored in and put them on once again. When I wear them in honor of our relationship, I can’t help but glance down at my own arm and wish her fancier bracelet was adorning her wrist instead of mine.

Object attachment is a normal part of being human, something that begins in childhood. As long as it is not obsessively out of control (like a hoarder situation), there really is not anything especially unhealthy about it. While I love my stuff, there are many items I have no trouble detaching from. As a matter of fact, I often take pleasure in releasing previously enjoyed possessions back out into the world, both randomly and with intention. It can be easy to free myself from some of those memories, while other times it might take a while before being ready to let them go. But there are certain inanimate objects attached to people or events which tend to hold significant weight and importance, lying close to my heart. The value is not monetary, but purely and strongly emotional. These bracelets are an example of preserving a memory that is precious.

As the years blast by and we find ourselves propelled into what is supposed to be the golden light of senior-hood, it becomes practical to downscale, although that has been met with a bit of difficulty. It has become clear that those sentimental attachments will not hold the same meaning and importance for the next owner. Think of all the wedding and engagement rings, heart-shaped lockets and initialed charms, symbols of once-upon-a-time love that end up in pawn shops, flea markets and garage sales, the passion and caring intent behind them long forgotten. Depending on the circumstances, some of that might be rather sad. I have at times wondered about people who have no sentimental attachment to anything at all. Yes, there is such a thing as embracing the concept of Impermanence, but sometimes I ponder – is there a coldness in their hearts? Is this healthier…or maybe not as healthy? Does it even matter? I guess there are extremes on both ends.

In the case of our sister bracelets gifted from our father, it pains me a bit to think someday their story will probably be lost. How magical it would be if they could continue to carry some sort of residual energy, imbued with all those years of love.

Although not necessarily their style, I plan to give one to each of my daughters, the style chosen specifically to their individual nature. As my father did, I will know who will get which one, and why. Perhaps they might wear them at some point. Perhaps some day in the future while visiting each other, they will show up wearing their sister bracelets, gifted with great love from their mother.

~*~