The 411 on my blizzardy Brooklyn move is a story for another day. On this snowy Monday, during which I actually made it from Brooklyn’s Clark St. to Manhattan’s 6th Ave without so much as a drop of snow on my stockings (thank you kindly, Hunter Wellingtons), I’d like to tell a quick tale about a Christmas miracle that happened to me this past weekend.
But first, some background: last holiday season, in between balancing my penchant for pie eating with an equally large desire to lighten the load in my trunk (ha), I enjoyed a free month at Healthtrax, the fancy gym in my fancy Long Island hometown. In between treadmill intervals and locker room showers, I lost one of my most prized possessions: a gold nameplate that my Grandma gave me when I turned 16. I searched high and low, from the gym showers to under my bed, and in every nook and cranny of my 100+ pocketbook collection, but the necklace was nowhere to be found—I even thought it might miraculously turn up when I packed up my Stonehill dorm for the final time back in May, but yet again, no such luck.
Then maybe, I thought it might reappear while packing up the Palace last week, but amidst the holiday hecticness, I resigned that it was still just a fragment of my past, though an ever-present memory of my mind. I was devastated to have lost it—not for it’s gold or glitz or ability to look simply awesome with every outfit—but because it was a gift from Grandma.
And then, just yesterday, while sitting in my new Brooklyn apartment, Mamadukes at my side, unpacking an old Vera Bradly duffle bag that I randomly grabbed from my childhood closet so I could lug my photo album collection to my new home, out fell the necklace! My gold nameplate, looking fresh and shiny as ever, found its way out of the duffle alongside my also-once-missing (though far, far less missed) Blackberry charger.
It was as if Grandma was in the room with us, smiling and laughing and wishing me well on my new home, reminding me one last time of her two signature life rules: (1) that you can never go wrong in a black and white outfit, and (2) that every date should be accepted, because even the iffy-looking boys have cute friends!
And honestly? She couldn’t be more right. Thanks for helping me find my necklace, Grandma. =)