DC pics

The bracelet was knotted and worn, so that it resembled a soggy pretzel, twisted

up in faded beads. The salt from the ocean made it smell like rotten tree bark,

and the  ‘Made in Japan’ tag had fallen off. The frayed edges of thread and

unwelcome texture made me want to cry; it was the gift my friend had kindly

mailed to me when she arrived in Japan. She’d been so nervous moving from

Chicago to Tokyo, and since her dad’s job was so important, we only had

three days to say Good-bye.

                   We went to a concert every night those three days. We talked until 2

in the morning, and woke up at 7 am, not wanting to miss any time together.

We were like sisters, including the occasional fights, and promised to write

every week. I couldn’t bear to take her bracelet off, but I thought the Maine

waves might strip the jewels of their jade painting. I guess my wrist would have

been safer than the wooden box I had carefully stowed it in. Turning my blow

                 dry from side-to-side, I pictured Molly in the crowded city, surrounded by

Asian culture, lost in the unfamiliar traffic. I sighed and went into the kitchen

to start making some mango sticky rice, Molly’s favorite Chinese food.

Noticing the picture of us laughing together at 9^th grade graduation, I realized

that our friendship was worth more than a bracelet. And broken thread,

                         distance, and change wasn’t going to take it away.