Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Ghosts, Love, and Costume Jewelry

Sometimes you get a sign.

Tonight I was sifting through a plastic bag of my late grandma's earrings. I have an entire box of her old costume jewelry, and I believe it is one of the few things I would make a point of retrieving if I ever had to flee my burning home. It's that precious to me.

I very frequently wear the various sparkly shiny clip-on earrings she left me. They're funky and retro-chic and I love them. They remind me of Gran, which I love even more.

But the bag I was looking through tonight...through which I was looking...whatever...was different. This bag, I thought, contained nothing but the Misfit Toys of my grandma's costume jewelry. The mismatched earrings, the ones missing fake stones from their settings, those so corroded or otherwise janky that they were unwearable. I kept them for nostalgic reasons only, as you do cling to even the most imperfect specimens when they are all you have of a loved one.

I was looking through this bag of odd, damaged, and otherwise forgotten pieces purely out of idle curiosity. I saw a few that brought back memories of my beloved Gran, others that made me wish they had survived the decades unscathed because they're lovely and deserve to be worn, even today. I would no sooner discard these trinkets than I would cut off my own arm.

And then...I found these.

A perfect, unscathed pair of earrings amongst the lonely and damaged singletons. All gleaming silver swirls and flashing faux gemstones.

They're exactly one inch across and studded with lucky 13 faceted rhinestones apiece.

They are so my grandma. They are so beautiful.

I've been in need of a sign that everything in my life is OK and getting better. Such signs are hard to find. Sometimes things are NOT OK and getting better, after all. And when they are, maybe we're too skeptical and scared to accept that fact.

So maybe we need a sign. A sign that things will work out, that things are good and getting better, that there are still a hundred hidden sources of beauty and joy that simply need to be brought into the light.

I feel as if I found my sign tonight, thanks to a plastic bag of costume jewelry and the continued loving presence of my Gran, years after she left this plane.

Thank you, Gran. I will wear these earrings tomorrow in your honor, and accept that whatever happens, you are there to help me accept and grow from it.

Also...they are kick-ass vintage earrings, right?

Drunkards, if you are open to looking for signs, chances are you'll find them. I wish you good fortune.


  1. My inner skeptic says that signs don't come to us, that we find signs because we need them, at times when we need them. And my inner optimist replies that this doesn't matter, that they're still signs, that they still impart hope. And the optimist and skeptic shake hands and agree to get things done.

    Here's to you getting things done.

  2. My grandma wore clip on earrings too. Thanks for the little reminder.

  3. I agree with Chris, above, that we find signs where we need them. That said, I must really need them because I tend to find them.

  4. I'm not really a sign oriented person.

  5. I'm not really a sign oriented person.


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