This is where it all began…

My grandmother’s jewelry and jewelry box.

Here sits my grandmother’s jewelry box. My memory will always be, this wooden jewelry box tucked away in a drawer, next to perfume and lipstick, holding all the things that most little girls love. When my sister and I would spend the night, we would dress up our footsie jammies with these necklaces. Our grandmother was a kind woman to let us rummage and tousle thru her things. She would smile and laugh with us, even let us clumsily adorn her with her own necklaces. The box always seemed so fancy with a black and grey lacquer on the outside and red velvet lining inside. Even now as I sit with the box next to me, I can smell my grandmother’s perfume. It’s crazy that I can see the necklaces that pulled so many strands of hair from my head and still wince. The smooth strands that felt so good then still feel like they hold a little bit of magic in my hands today. The best part of this box isn’t what it holds inside but what I hold inside from the memories of this box.