Magic and a Brooch

Family heirlooms are more of a book theme than a reality to me. Little trinket jewels and symbolic emblems – the dragonfly necklace in Twenties Girl, or a nifty mocking-jay pin in The Hunger Games or One Ring to Rule them all. But in a world that is not on the best selling list, what is the point of these things? Where does the magic lie? I think about curios that people have passed down from generation to generation and wonder what it is about a material thing that could be so important?

Surely a plate of food, or a family vacation, or having a car is more relevant than some silly little nugget with monetary worth locked up in it? I have never faulted anyone for selling off those old keepsakes for the sake of their current situations. After all, a precious timepiece doesn’t pay the doctors bills.

Maybe my lack of appreciation for symbolic histories has a bit to do with how I was raised. 'Value' was never something we attested to earthly man-made possessions. And magic doesn't exist. Even if there was something left to sell, my most recent ancestors didn’t really have the option to pass things of value down the family line as world wars, death taxes, continental relocations and too many offspring watered out any possible inheritance we had before I was even born.

But that was OK with me. I have never felt the need for a fancy clock, or a vintage chair, or even an ancient jewel. Though I often thought it would be nice to have a beautiful old ring or some equivalent that I can treasure, it would only have been gimmicky - pretty cool - like something from a novel. But I have never seen the deeper value in those possessions. I never believed in magic. That is until now.

I had a surgery last week that I was very worried about. I struggled to sleep thanks to anxiety, but when I did, my nights were filled with nightmares leading up to it. Nothing could help me because all the pre-suffering was in my head, and I am about as stubborn as I am tall. Not an easy thing to deal with before going under the knife. I didn't need pills, I didn't need stern talking to's. I didn't need prayers or meditations or distractions. I needed magic.

That is why I put on my grandmother’s brooch. It’s the only thing I have of hers, besides her British, almost see-through skin, fair hair and love of words. She meant so much to me growing up and still fills my life now that she has passed on.

When she died, there wasn’t much for me to remember her by. I got a selection of her books – mostly poetry – and her dictionaries. I have a cherished doll she gave me when I was 5, a blanket she bought for me in my early adulthood, and I have lot's of photo's. But none of these things could go with me about my daily business. Not like the brooch could.

I hung the brooch from a necklace round my neck. It is actually a gift I gave her some time before she died, and so the family felt it right to let me have it when she passed. It is not valuable - I bought it on a budget years ago. It is a cheap, pretty thing that probably won’t last my lifetime. But it is all I have.

I am sad I don't have a ring, or something easy to wear that will last. But I am glad I have what I do. 

Just wearing that brooch made me feel better. Protected. Almost as though having it with me could make me stronger and more able to face what was coming. It gave me the little bit of magic I needed, wrapped up in the mindfulness of wearing a thing that belonged to my dear Granny.

So maybe it has nothing to do with the amulet itself, but is more about the person who it represents to me. Perhaps J K Rowling's explanation of horcruxes (loosely) is the closest to the mystery behind it (though, of course, taking Harry Potter out of the equation, and using magic for good - not evil)

I plan on keeping some special things, a few trinkets and little heirlooms to pass on when it is my time, so that my future granddaughter can have a piece of me when she needs it most. And I plan on being the grandmother to her like mine was to me, to give that trinket the magic Granny gave me last week.

Love, lust and fairy-star-dust

Cherry Blossom