Several years ago, in a closed off street festival, celebrating local art in the slowing down mining community I live, there was a necklace. It was simple, long, with a word stamped circle and a small meteorite stone hanging beside it. I held it in my hand, turned it over, switched hands. Showed it to my family, and then walked away. Almost to the end of the street, I went back, talked to the artist, who offered to change the meteorite to a stone, prettier, less apt to cause me to pause in choosing.

My daughter, her boyfriend, my husband, all waited as I could not decide. My daughter, looking in my eyes in the leaving light of day said, it’s perfect.

I went back to the artist, I will take it, I said, just as it is, it’s perfect.

She packed it up, handed it to me and as I left, she wished me well on my journey, whatever it was.

It was so many years ago, and I have not forgotten what happened. How I could not decide if I could choose the stone, spun by the universe, clumped and dull, and at the time, unpretty.

It does not surprise me now I wanted something smooth, purple, lovely, shining in the light and uniformly normal.

My daughter was right. It was perfect. The artist was right, in placing a piece of the universe beside the word she didn’t know I would need on this journey, wherever it was going to take me. And the world was right, just for a moment, when I walked back down the closed off street to bring the word home with me, stamped on that small circle.


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