Eva LaBeau

The little girl inside will forever be here, just hidden by the tangled memories.

Every day, she wakes up with the three necklaces around her neck tangled in a mess.

And, every day, she is reminded of something. 

Some past family event, some holiday, or some random moment of childish glee always manages to slip its way into her mind. 

In some ways, she relishes this; she can relive the happiest moments of her life with her favorite people, many of whom have since gone. 

But in other—often more apparent—ways, it strikes her in the same way that the necklaces around her neck do as they mesh into one big knot each morning: cluttered and jumbled and tangled and inevitably intertwined.

Except, with this particular cluster, she can’t find the clasps. The chains are so overlapped and overlaid that the closure on each necklace seems to have no presence at all.

She can’t separate the butterfly charm from the locket or the ruby. No matter how hard she tries, it’s nearly impossible. 

The complexity hidden in every entanglement serves as a reminder of the similar complexity of life itself. 

The little girl inside—in the memories tangled like her necklaces—will always be inside but never really there.

She understands all too well that she will always have that naïve, childish little girl somewhere inside of her, but the innocence has stayed its time. 

She’s lost her sparkle.

But she has to protect the little one. 

And so, the necklaces tangled beyond recognition serve as a shield of sorts; they’re enough to keep the bad out and the good in.

Until they can’t. 

It always seemed to her that she’d manage alright alone, but then something happened.

Someone came along and found the clasps to her necklaces. 

Somebody stood by for the tedious moments—maybe even hours or days—and worked to carefully remove each knot. 

With each knot’s removal came the shedding of another memory. Another story fell from the chains and into the lap of the little girl who had been waiting so patiently.

And so came another laugh, another smile, another moment of infinity. 

Each chain became un-tangled. Un-bent. Un-painful.

The memories are no longer cluttered, jumbled, or tangled.

She began to understand that what’s gone hasn’t really left, but rather, the necklaces will hold them near her heart of hearts. And so, each necklace began to shine as its old self again, and so did she. 

The small butterfly charm with rubies on the back regained its sparkle. 

The empty, golden, heart-shaped locket with her grandmother’s name engraved onto the back regained its sparkle. 

The simple oval ruby pendant regained its sparkle.

She regained her sparkle.

She reached out, and instead of grasping for something just out of reach, she latched onto it. And she isn’t letting go.