On.. Charmed

For my twelfth birthday, my mom gave me a pretty silver charm bracelet with a single charm on it. She added to it as I grew. In my teens I placed it in my jewelry box one day, and it stayed there until just a few years ago.

When I was younger, it was a bracelet that was all about me. Just like, at twelve, on the cusp of teendom, I was all about me…as the chemicals do seem to dictate for all children of that age. Years later, when charms, memory quilts and scrapbooking took over the crafter’s markets, I took the bracelet out. I fell into a mode of buying a charm when I traveled, or when I saw one that reminded me of something special. Sometimes a charm was purchased because it reminded me of a friend, or a virtue, or something for which I aspire. Some of the charms were gifts from dear friends or family. It was like a scrapbook on my wrist, with tangible journal entries.

The charms that mom bought when I was young, were about me…an Aries the Ram charm, a dachshund, an artist brush and palette, and a pair of snow skis. I believe that the ram was the single charm on the bracelet when it was given to me. My zodiac. Fitting for a birthday charm. One born as an Aries was supposed to be creative, kind of a left brain thinker, though we didn’t have that term in those days. A graceful way of saying sloppy and disorganized, I’ve always thought. Though, I think I go with it because what other excuse do I have? To this day, it reminds me to use this creativity for good. And, perhaps to aspire to a heftier organizational level as well…one can always hope. And, prophetic too, I suppose as I have raised sheep for the last eight years.

I don’t know what came next. But, the dachshund was representative of our own ‘dachsy’, which we named, Roxy. She was bought as a Christmas present for my sister Sue for her twelfth birthday, fourteen months before mine. Sue wanted a dog for twelve years, I am sure. But when she got the dog, she wasn’t the one who took care of her. There were never any fights about it, Roxy just somehow became much more my dog. Maybe it was the matching outfits my sister couldn’t compete with…not sure, but Roxy was mine. And, oh how I loved that little dog! She had three puppies and I took care of them all, and have a scrapbook to show for it. When I was in high school, we were told that we had to give Roxy away because my sister Kathy had developed extreme allergies. I tried to convince my mom to give away my sister, but as you can imagine, she wasn’t going there (Kathy – I do think mom was right!). So, Roxy ended up being adopted by the high school counselor, who I had a huge crush on, and babysat for his kids. So, I still got to see Roxy every once in a while. And, this whole story, and more I can take with me on my wrist.

Sometime after my first attempt at skiing, age 13, mom gave me a silver charm that was a set of skis. I am not sure if she purchased it for the memory of my first attempt, or to remind me that I had a second attempt. I never did ski that first time on New Year’s Day, as I grabbed the tow rope too hard and fell over, going up the hill for the first time. When my bindings didn’t release, I broke my leg in two places. I did go back to skiing…I felt I had never really been in the first place, so I should not be afraid to try again. I took the chair lift the next time and delighted in the experience when I was dumped on my bottom at the top of the hill and the chair whisked dangerously past my head as I crawled out of the way. At that point, I only had to get down. That had to be easier than getting up! And, so to this day, I have a gentle reminder on my wrist that sometimes it is harder to get started on an activity than to do the activity…and I am sure I can come up with many more sentiments for my set of skiis on my wrist, but for this point in my life, that one works well.

The artist brush and palette was a gift when I was in high school, after I took painting lessons from a local artist. That story is already a published one, and one of my favorites, buried in the “On” article archives. Creativity directed. Choice of passion versus giving in. When my mom gave me the charm, she didn’t know how the creative bug would take over my life, how much a part of me it would become. She didn’t know how much meaning the silver charm would hold…or did she?

So, these silver portraits of times gone by did represent what I was to become. When I pulled the bracelet from the jewelry box and began to where it again, I was surprised how often I was asked by men, women and children to take a closer look at the little detailed silver sculptures. They like to tell of their charm bracelets, or they tell stories from their past that are sparked from a charm that I have. I now have a couple of dozen charms on my bracelet and continue to gather more. They are dear to me, and the stories are more for conversation than this article, but they include an angel, an elephant, a four leaf clover, a set of music notes, a spoon, a set of flippers, inline skates, a whale’s tale, a Mexican sun god, a Southern belle, a boy and heart, a Scottie dog, and a cat.

There are also two that have words on them….love and laugh. The bracelet has become much more than something of my past. All that I was and all that I want to be. In all its charm, it now represents my future too, my hopes and dreams.

Again, mom, thank you! Thank you for the charms and the bracelet that mean so much to me. And, as so often I see how precious you are, I wonder if I tell you that enough.

On... Charmed