In the 1960s charm bracelets were a trend, and teenage Mom had one full of charms. During a Thursday morning visit in December, she brought out a small silk pouch and handed it to me. She was in the dividing-up-her-jewelry stage of dying and wanted me to have her bracelet of stories, a reminder of our story work together.
As a child, I loved this bracelet. On the rare occasion she wore it to church, if I happened to be sitting by her, I carefully turned it on her wrist, examining each intricate charm. My favorite was the baby with the bottle that moved to its mouth. I loved feeding that tiny baby.
A seed of mothering dropped into my heart with the tenderness I felt toward that silver charm.
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