Mothers Pearls :: Personal Narrative, Descriptive, Description

Mothers Pearls Around my baffles neck was a necklace a string of jaggedly spherical crystallizing beads. I dont know why she chose that necklace for that night. Her sisters get married perhaps called for the touch of a family heirloom, or perhaps she evidently liked the way it sat above her collarbone in a path of smooth stones. All the same, it was on this night that she chose to wear it this favored piece of hers a gift from her late grandmother.On my mothers lap I sat in a curl no older than seven, with little patience for adults or conversation or wedding parties. With my ear to her breast, her voice reverberated as though echoing break through of a dim cave in the wells of her chest.My mothers blighter was tall and lanky. He had a reddish face and his ears looked as though they had been pinched by the lobes and stretched out an extra inch. His eyes were gentle, but I had no taste for men that were not my father, and was too shy to deport his numerous offers to dan ce, as my mother eased naturally in and out of conversation with the other women at the table.Shes living in head now.Thats mighty. She married an optometrist, didnt she?Sean Smithl.The band music, these womens voices, the vibration of my mothers chest, had all begun to blend into a slow rhythm, and I stared at the old women on the makeshift dance floor waltzing with their sons.Between my right fingers were the jewels that settled around my mothers neck, that spiraled and entwined in the small of my hand, fasten at her throat, twisting effortlessly, the cool stones rolling over the tips of fingers, sliding crossways palm.Had my evening ended like this, the entire memory would have been befuddled in the pile of my past like any other childishness moment. But it did not. In a snap as quiet as the sound of a pin popping through fabric, my mothers necklace unleashed from her throat, a ripple of beads falling to the floor like rain. She gasped, button me from her lap, leaving me w ide-eyed and mesmerized by the glittering pellets that rolled and hopped off the carpet, some even reeling their way to the hard edge of the dance floor. down the stairs the table, past the chair legs, she and her boyfriend bent over desperately, plucking the shimmering rocks and filling their workforce with them.