A paper angel with one bent wing.
Lauren’s childhood drawings.
A faded photograph of her missing a front tooth.
At the bottom, beneath tissue paper, Ruth found a small tin.
The lid stuck.
She pried it open.
Then stopped talking.
Inside lay my mother’s pearl locket.
Small.
Old-fashioned.
Cream-colored pearls arranged around a modest silver center.
The chain was delicate, repaired twice.
One pearl had a tiny scratch.
I’d forgotten how beautiful it looked in daylight.