The Charm Bracelet

Holding the charm bracelet upon receiving it, possibly for 13th birthday.

In the realm of first world problems, inadvertently throwing out something of intrinsic value hardly registers on any scale. What I am in a state of shock over isn’t the loss of the item (though I am a bit sad), it’s the notion that I could have done something so demented.

While traveling in Italy recently, I got the idea to start buying charms for the charm bracelet I’d had since I was a girl. I rarely wore the bracelet when I was young. Even at the time it was given to me, it was considered a bit old-fashioned. Nevertheless, charms were often given to me by family members until I was about 20 years old. I dutifully placed them on the bracelet, which then lay in my jewelry box mostly unloved and unworn. A few years ago, however, I started putting it on from time-to-time. I was reminded almost immediately why I hadn’t worn it much. It often got snagged on my clothing. But, it was a source of nostalgia in that each charm evoked a story, which is why I thought I should start adding to it again.

I placed the bracelet on the table I sit at each day. I read the newspaper, do my freelance work, take care of business such as balancing the checkbooks, and basically live my life at this table. The bracelet sat on the table reminding me each day to start looking for some charms that would remind me of my recent trips to the Middle East, to Italy, and to France. When I returned a few weeks ago from a trip to first Boston, then Chicago, the bracelet was still sitting on the table. I finally decided to work on finding a few charms for it.

On Amazon, I found a company called Les Poulettes that had the perfect Eiffel Tower to symbolize my trip to Paris. Then I found a camel, with two humps, to symbolize an adventure I had in Dubai. I started to look for something that might do the same for Singapore, Thailand, India, Oman, and Italy, but didn’t have any luck so decided that two charms would be a good start. I placed the orders.

The Eiffel Tower arrived a few days later. The box it came in was beautiful. It reminded me of something from Tiffany’s. Even the box was a similar turquoise color. I unwrapped the charm, which had what is called a lobster claw clasp, and easily added it to the bracelet. Sweet, I thought. And that’s the last thing I remember about that bracelet.

A few days after that, the camel arrived. I looked on the table for the bracelet so that I could add this new charm to it, but it wasn’t there. I racked my brain trying to recall what I had done with the bracelet after putting the Eiffel Tower on it. Maybe I put it back upstairs in my jewelry box? I checked. Nothing. Maybe it had fallen off the table somehow? I checked. Nothing. I started to panic. For one ridiculous moment I even wondered if someone had come into my house and took the bracelet. I shut that thought down immediately thinking, that’s what happens to people with dementia. But, what the heck? I’m not a careless person. The box, I thought. What did I do with the box? Could I have unthinkingly placed the bracelet in the box and then...horrors!...thrown that box out?

As one possessed, I started looking. In the recycling bin was the first most logical place to start. I recycle things like boxes. I knew the garbage people had been round on Monday, but I hadn’t placed the latest recycling bag in the bin until Saturday. As I rummaged through the bag, I could see that there were things in there that predated the arrival of the Eiffel Tower charm, but no box. Could I really have thrown the box in the garbage? Specifically in the garbage that was picked up on Monday? If I had placed the bracelet in the box, wouldn’t I have noticed that the little box was a bit heavy? Wouldn’t the bracelet have rattled around, even made a sort of clanking noise as it fell into the bag? Wouldn’t I have heard that? Wouldn’t there have been some sensation to alert me as to the stupidity of what I was doing? Did I do that?

Then I got really crazy. In an extreme state of denial, I started checking everywhere for the bracelet—in the cupboards, the refrigerator, the freezer, the dishwasher, in pants pockets, coat pockets, the floors, the furniture cushions. I felt around the table like I was blind and only the touch of my fingers would reveal the missing item. I tried to put myself in a sort of hypnotic state, willing myself to conjure up a memory—a sort of mental dowsing—but, to no avail. The bracelet was gone.

I close my eyes now and focus on the memory of the charm bracelet, but of the at least 15 charms that were on it, these are the only ones I can clearly remember:

• My Confirmation, date inscribed on the back
• Aries, my Zodiac sign
• Woman doing the Hula, from my trip to Hawaii
• Winter Carnival, a gift from the St. Paul/Minneapolis festival
• Mickey Mouse, from my first trip to Disney World
• Discovery, a gift upon completion of Sears Charm School
• Diploma, upon graduating from high school
• Eiffel Tower

Sitting on the table in front of me is the two-humped camel charm.

I should probably go volunteer at a local soup kitchen, or contribute to Doctors Without Borders, or do something for humanity that matters. Because, in all honesty, that charm bracelet was just a thing, and obsessing about it really is demented.

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2018