starting over

A little band of silver rolled into my life 38 years ago. I suppose you could say my button bracelet was the Vera Bradley of my peers in the early 70's: most girls I knew wore them.

It was a short drive from where I lived to Richard Parker's shop in Avon, Connecticut, where he hand-hammered his creations. Amazingly, Richard and his son continue crafting jewelry, creating the same sterling silver button bracelets that started it all in 1961.

Coming off three days of World Series mayhem and little sleep, I lost track of my bracelet back in October. Mr. Airport Security ordered me to remove my obviously suspicious bracelet, I obeyed and tossed it in my bag. I thought. As best I can guess, it's now somewhere in the Tampa airport or perhaps on the arm of a lucky young girl.

That bracelet was much more than one I'd choose to wear occasionally. I wore it ALL the time. So my button bracelet traveled overseas, showered, gardened, cleaned house, swam and camped, and yes, went to the delivery room four times. The years of dishes, mopping, mothering and living had worn it down to a smoother and thinner version of the original.

With all we'd been through, my bracelet and me, did the loss matter? A little sentimentality, yes. But in the wide screen of life, no. Not a bit. Still, even two months after the loss, my right arm felt naked.

So on Christmas morning when I opened one of those fun, endless nests of boxes from my son David, what do you think was in the final little square box? A new button bracelet. Shiny-silver and ready to take its place on my right wrist.

It's a good reminder of the need to start over in this new year. To not cry over what's lost to the past, but to appreciate the now.

Happy, hopeful new year.