Becoming Whispers | The Necklace

As I am getting ready this morning, I'm looking through my jewelry for my favorite pair of earrings, and without warning my hand closes around something else.

The necklace.

I pull it out of my jewelry box slowly, and the chain catches the light, delicate and gold, and I feel my breath catch.

He gave me this. So long ago. A small thing... thoughtful. The kind of gift that says I see you.

I hold it in my palm, and the weight of it is familiar. I used to wear it all the time. And then I stopped. I put it away. Couldn't look at it without feeling the ache.

But this morning, holding it, I don't feel the ache.

I feel... tenderness.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, the necklace still in my hand, and I think about him. Not with longing. Not with the desperate need to know if he thinks of me.

Just... he crosses my mind. And I let him.

I run my thumb over the moon pendant, it's beautiful, and I realize: I can hold this. I can think of him. And I don't have to spiral.

The love I felt, the love I still feel, it doesn't need him to receive it.

It can just... exist. In me. As something I carry.

I stand up and walk to the mirror, fastening the necklace around my neck. It sits against my collarbone, light and familiar, and I look at myself.

Not with sadness. Not with regret.

Just... clear.

I loved him. I still love him. And that's okay.

I don't need him to know. I don't need anything from him at all.

The necklace catches the light again, and I turn away from the mirror, ready for the day.

And I'm okay.

More than okay.

I'm grateful.