I saw it on the floor.
It was lying in my closet, my very own nullity of memorabilia and feckless clutter. I revisit the disorderly no man’s land no more than annually, occasionally stumbling across an old birthday card, a nostalgic Polaroid, or—if I’m lucky—a stray dollar bill or two.
Good fortune must have met me when my eyes clasped onto the necklace, its incontestably well-loved chain rusted over where there used to be glistening gold. Dangling on the end was a pink heart-shaped pendant, a summation once a staple to my sixth-grade attire. Around my neck, it felt familiar.
I have no remembrance of when or why I stopped wearing the necklace. Maybe it clashed with my new clothing, or I could have found a necklace I treasured just a little more. Maybe I let someone convince me that it wasn’t quite as valuable as I thought it was. But regardless of the reason, it sat idle in my closet long enough for me to completely forget about the worth it once held to me.
I stared at its scarcely shimmering surface, its gleam only a whisper compared to what it used to be. The pale pink was a little blurrier than I remembered it, hazy from what I can only assume was the juxtaposition of the dust it laid inert in for years and the lingering negligence I had bestrewed upon its once twinkling plane. The sun outside the window caught the eroded chain, and in the effulgent light, I swear I caught a sudden glimpse of the little girl who once considered that jewelry to be nothing less than a vitality.
It is a rarity for that little girl to make an appearance now. She seems to have been buried under the rubble with the necklace, accompanied by the unparalleled ambition and childlike wonder that she once held dearly. She was caught under the ruin and suffocated in its asphyxiating havoc, dragged under alongside people she once knew. When the fun is over, the lights dim, and the music stops playing, she takes a look around at everything and everyone she thought she could recognize and suddenly she yearns for the heart-shaped necklace to return with its solace.
I think that that little girl would be disappointed about how easily I have come to accept such actuality. She’d probably look at me and wonder what happened.
She would probably wonder what happened to the children I used to play freeze tag with during recess, running free through the wood chips, who are now throwing up in someone’s yard somewhere. Or my friends from elementary school who once sat on hands and knees drawing chalk murals and are now succumbed to their rooms. I haven’t heard from the neighbors who once stood on the curb with me selling lemonade in years.
And that little girl turned into me, who stands among everyone else, fading into nothing but a memory under the revelation that everything is a little more real now.
Reality bleeds onto the pages of what was once a peaceful book, and all of a sudden, actions garner far worse consequences than being sent to one’s room or being put in a time-out. Admonishment is no longer just a scolding from a parent and an earlier bedtime. Tears roll for reasons deeper than just a skinned knee or a nightmare.
People once known become indistinguishable.
The bliss in oblivion is forgotten.
And a heart-shaped necklace becomes expendable.
I wish it still glittered like it used to, the forgotten necklace.
Maybe then the little girl would come back and shine again, too.
