Mom had two jewelry boxes. One held jewelry she wore frequently. The other was a larger cedar box with a hook closure. I liked organizing what she had in the first box, but everything was usually off limits. On special occasions, she’d let me wear a gold chain or her favorite pair of hoop earrings.

The cedar jewelry box held the exotic stuff. In a white cardboard box in one corner, there lived three thin glass bangles, two bright orange and one purple, both with a white stripe in the center. I can see why she never wore them. Carefully, I tried them on, making sure they didn’t hit one another too hard. “A friend from India gave me those.” From India? With a limited worldview and vacations consisting of family road trips to south Texas, I wistfully imagined having a friend from India.

Replacing the bangles before I had a chance to break them, I went on to a necklace. She had several silver with turquoise and coral pieces. One necklace held a Buffalo nickel. My dad, an avid coin collector, bought it for her long before we were born. She wore it occasionally, but it usually remained well protected in the cedar box. There were several rings with large stones. “They’re not worth much,” she’d say. To me, they were treasures.

One of my favorite pieces was a sterling silver charm bracelet. Popular in the sixties, she saved money to buy one. The story it held was that of my parents when they started dating. My dad was stationed at Ft. Hood in Killeen, Tx, just north of Austin. Against my grandma’s wishes, as typical love-struck teen girls do, she hopped on a bus to visit him. My dad took her sightseeing and they stopped at the capitol. He bought her a silver mini-capitol charm. I was fascinated with it. The other charms were silver disks, one with a Capricorn etched onto it. “It’s my birthday sign,” she’d remind me. One had her birthdate engraved on it. Another was a little boy’s head silhouette, maybe for my little brother? I’d try that one on too, little shiny disks dangling, with the capitol in the center.

When I graduated from college, I was at home chatting with Mom. I took out her jewelry boxes again, organizing everything in the first jewelry box, scoping out new additions. Saving the cedar box for last, I went through the same pieces. Not wanting to break the glass bangles, I didn’t try to slip them over my hand. I mentioned that charm bracelets were making a come-back as I shook my wrist, her silver charm bracelet tinkling in response. “You can have it if you want it. I never wear it. Take the charms off if you don’t like them.”

“What? Mom, I can’t…”

“Just take it. I haven’t worn it. I’d rather you get some use out of it.”

“Well, okay, but I can pay you…”

“No, it’s yours. You’ve always liked it.”

I took the charm bracelet, jumping a little inside. I liked the capitol charm even more since I attended The University of Texas. The capitol was a familiar view from the main mall on campus as I went to class every day, just down the hill. At night, I’d see it from the fifth floor window of the Perry Castañeda library, white against the dark sky. I’m really here!

I removed the charms except for the capitol. The first one to accompany it was an interlocking UT logo. Then it was a longhorn. I collected charms along the way, purchasing some, but many were gifts.

I was rarely without my bracelet. By now, it had become a conversation piece. Each charm told stories about me, but it always started with my parents’ story. My fourth grade students often checked it for new charms. Their favorites were the mini crayon and globe charms, symbols of the beginning of my teaching career. Because it’s bulky, I’d often take it off while I entered grades on my computer. I’d put it back on before leaving for the day.

One morning, I couldn’t find it. Before panicking, my husband asked where I had been the day before. School, pretty much. Where else do I go? I remembered entering grades before I left. Surely it’s still next to my computer. I got to school and immediately checked my desk.

It wasn’t there.

My heart pounded. Kids began entering the classroom. I’d check with the custodians. If they saw it on the floor, they would have saved it for me. Fortunately I worked at a small campus. However, they didn’t find it. I racked my brain retracing my steps.

Sonic! I had gone to an indoor Sonic after school yesterday, but before a meeting at church across the street. I would’ve known if it fell off though, it’s heavy. If I dropped it in the parking lot, it would either get run over or picked up. I might not see it again. My heart raced as I called the restaurant when it opened.

“Can you describe the bracelet?”

“It’s silver, there’s a capitol in the middle, a crayon, globe, angel, interlocking UT charm…”

“We have it. You’re lucky. Someone found it in the seat yesterday and turned it in. We’ll hold it until you get here.”

I drove there during my planning period with someone as back up to pick up my students from specials in case I didn’t make it back in time.

Sure enough, it was my bracelet. I put it on right away. When I returned to my classroom, I took it off to inspect it. The safety chain was broken. I never thought I’d see it again, but I’m ever grateful to the person who picked it up and knew it was more than a bunch of cute silver charms.