My grandfather’s house was built for his grandchildren. Many of us started our lives there. We lived in every room from one point in time to another. When I was to start middle school, I was staying in my grandparents’ room. It caught my eye the first night.
If it came from a beach, I wouldn’t know which. If it came from the ocean, I wouldn’t doubt it. If it came… but it didn’t. I found it. In my grandmother’s jewelry box. She didn’t give it to me yet.
I took it to school. I was without family for the first time. I needed a reminder of them. I kept it all through sixth grade year. Seventh grade year. Eight grade year.
After years of treasuring the necklace, my bubbling guilt had finally reached the top. I showed my grandma the necklace. She laughed and said she knew it was still in the family. The necklace was mine. The necklace is mine.
My grandfather’s house was built for his grandchildren… and so was everything in it.
Rolling in Mind After Class 