Tonight, I looked for the bracelet again. It was given to me by LL's Mom before I left in 2002. I love his mother, as if she were my own, which is why I treasured the bracelet so much. I wore it the same day I got it, and I didn't take it off until this January. This was because I was mad at her son. I was afraid that the longer I wore it, the longer I would pine for him. I took it off because it symbolized my letting go. The memory of the moment I removed the dainty, gold bracelet from my right wrist is vague. I remember placing it in my bag, in the zipper compartment. I wanted to keep it safe. I didn't want to lose it. Unfortunately, I was misled by my anger, and I wanted to rebel against the love I foolishly believed in. I wanted to be negligent in order to prove to myself that I no longer cared about him.
I haven't seen the bracelet since then. I feel terrible. I told her that I still had it, and, now, I can't find it.
I was busy rummaging through my things when Mom said this: "Well, maybe it wasn't meant to be."
There are sins we intentionally commit in order to nullify previous misdeeds. In losing the bracelet, I found myself.
It is no longer a symbol of ill-begotten feelings. It has become a keepsake, a bookmark in my life. It is I and him, and the string of little moments and people that bind us somehow. It is a yesterday spent and a tomorrow untold.
...But then again, when I think about it, maybe it wasn't meant to be.
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