My mother wore it on Sundays.
Not because it was expensive.
It wasn’t.
Her own mother had given it to her before she married.
After Grandma died, the locket passed to me.
I’d promised it to Lauren when she was ten.
She had borrowed it for a school recital.
I remember fastening the chain around her neck because her hands were shaking with excitement.
“Can I keep it?”
she asked.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s for something special.”
“What special thing?”