This is a necklace given to me by my aunt. Her profession has allowed her to not only travel, but also live in many interesting places, for instance, Sri Lanka. She told me it was a moonstone and I fell in love with it. I would wear it everywhere. Everywhere, that is, besides dance class. In my class we were not allowed to wear any dangly jewelry, and although this was a loose rule, I was terrified of getting it confiscated. So, everyday before class I would take it off and put it in its designated pocket of my huge dance bag. One day, I was late for class and my fear of its confiscation overrode my meticulous organization, so I just threw it in my bag. 
I thought I would never see it again. I couldn’t find it anywhere and none of my friends had seen it. I tore apart my bag looking for this beautiful necklace but eventually I had to face the possibility of never seeing it again. I don’t cry often, but I cried over this necklace. I couldn’t tell which was worse, my sadness over a lost accessory, or my guilt. 
Ten years after the loss of this necklace. I was cleaning out my closet in the peak of my pandemic boredom.  Little did I know, I was about to unearth an emotionally charged time capsule. There it was, sitting in its designated pocket. I could now relay to my aunt that I’m not the worst  niece ever. I now laugh at this experience. It was just a material item and as some would say ‘it was the thought that counts’ right? Maybe. But not for me. To this day I get upset and even sometimes anxious over the loss of even the smallest and most useless objects. 

– AH

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