Today at work my housemate called to say we had been broken into. It looked like nothing had been taken but I should check when I got home.
I checked. Something had been taken. All my jewelery.
A couple of Christmases ago, Skywalker bought me a lovely silver jewelery box. I kept it in a shelf with other 'looking pretty' stuff - hair clips and ribbons and costume jewelery. The jewelery box was there, but open, and empty. (The stuff I had lying around on my dresser was untouched. And it was Tiffany, too. Idiot thieves.)
None of it was very expensive. Although the pendant and matching ring my Grandma gave me for my 18th wouldn't have been exactly cheap, it wasn't that expensive and it was the most valuable of the lot. But I started making a list for the cops, and everything item on the list, instead of starting with 'gold' or 'sapphire' began with the occasion or person connected to it: "18th" "Confirmation" "Gma/Winky".
When my Grandmother died, she passed on a pearl necklace to my dad. He gave it a friend of the family (after whom I was named), and when she died, she gave it back to him. When I got it, there was a note, all yellowed and creased, saying she felt she'd only been holding it for him for me.
I don't wear it that much; it's pretty but fairly old-fashioned looking. But I wore it for my birthday this year. I'm wearing it in that photo, although you can't see it very well. (Yeah, turns out all the times I'm photographed wearing my jewelery, the photos are of me, not my neck or fingers or wrists. Shocking, I know.) When I got home that night, I took it off, carefully placed it in its box, and teared up as I read the note. If only I had been a bit sloppier, tossed it down, carelessly left it on the dresser, I would probably still have it.
I called my dad straight away. To tell him what had happened, so someone would give me a hug, even if it was from across the country. But the real reason was to say: I'm sorry, Dad and Winky and Grandma V. You all kept it for me and I didn't manage to keep it safe, but I tried.
And now some loser who didn't even know to wear gloves when breaking and entering has my memories, and is probably giving them to his crackwhore of a girlfriend as we speak. Happy Important Family Mementos Day, fucker.