A bracelet.
The bracelet.
There's a difference.
For me, my bracelet is the bracelet.
The bracelet of my dreams.
Of my story.
Of my past.
Of my life.
In a way, that bracelet has witnessed my life
In a glimpse
In a tiny snatch of time.
It's nothing fancy.
Not even store-bought.
I made it
At summer camp
With thread
In all the colors of the rainbow
Alongside my cousin
My cousin, my sister, my best friend
All in the same person
And new friends
I hadn't met yet
And everyone from that camp.
I loved that camp.
That bracelet bears witness to everything I did in that magical camp week.
The mosquito bites.
The forest walks.
The card games under the pavilion.
The fire pit.
Mafia.
It was a good week.
That bracelet holds all my memories from it
And the energy
And love
And community.
And I brought it with me into seventh grade too
And the rest of my summer
And everywhere
It's seen my life
From that first piece of thread
And all the twists and turns after it
To the point
Where I forget about it
And it ends up
In my closet
A relic of my summer
Lost in time
(and also closet junk).
Posted in response to the challenge Witness.
Comments
I once made a woven bracelet just like this, one I didn't take off for years until it broke. It got me through some hard times (with the help of the quote I had lettered on it). Weird how we develop such strong attachments to "things," but especially when it's something you make, it can hold such a special place in your heart and feel so comfortingly familiar -- like an inanimate friend. You chose the perfect "witness" to your life to write about!
Thanks! Yeah, I thought so too. Every summer I make more bracelets like this one - I have a whole pile of forgotten ones somewhere!
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