I had definitely worn it earlier. Seen it on my wrist in shul. Walked all over since then. It could be anywhere
Acouple of weeks after our world teetered off its axis, my husband suddenly remembers Simchas Torah night.
“What’s with your bracelet?” he asks, and I look at him, thinking, What? And then when I realize what he’s talking about, I still think, What? Because who is thinking about bracelets when we’re still trying to comprehend — no… absorb? Compute? Grasp? — what has happened to us.
But now that I’m reminded of it, here’s the story of a bracelet:
A bracelet long dreamed of, a white-gold minimalistic piece of art that I treated myself to in honor of a milestone simchah. One I had custom-made to match a yellow-gold piece I’d seen and loved, because. I really wanted white gold.
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