I am going to put down this journal entry for a moment. Why I recorded this entry remains to me a mystery. My dear locket. I don't even remember why I threw you out. I threw you out? My grandmother had bestowed that locket upon me for my tenth birthday. I will never forget that day. The sun had been up forever that day, and it put me in mind of a gold wheat field which stretched beyond existence, into some land that I could not see. Eternity perhaps.
My whole family was outside. My sister, with her cherry colored bowties flopping, danced around the yard with her black boots beneath a dress dotted with cherries, the picture of pigtails with a lot of expression to them. Our Cheryl. Cheryl was a gem to the world. Everyone who knew Cheryl adored her.
But I just can't say it. I can't connect dear Cheryl to this story, not without telling her. Cheryl doesn't live far away from me, and if I say anything about her, then I know she will find out. We are too closely bonded. Each week she visits. While I know that I am not the careless soul that would ever dream of placing these pages out for common eyes that will scandalously look at them, I would be the world's biggest fool to allow them to meet any eye except mine. These diaries are top secret documents. To share them would surely mean death.
It is extremely difficult to make a cut into a piece of something that doesn't seem able to open up for you. Like coconuts. It is hard to believe that coconuts are for eating. People are the same way I guess. No one wants to be a good listener. Very few people have the ability to serve the function that someone in my position needs, that is anyone- except for my dear Cheryl. Cheryl, with her long dark hair twisted into braids, who never stopped wearing those braids when she came of age, who never married, whose sweet, unmarked face sees everything as a child would see it. Cheryl with her long, shapely legs and her womanly features, this woman that in spite of being blessed with great beauty is, in essence only a girl. My dear Cheryl. How I love you.
But you can have no connection with this story. I must leave you out of it.
That locket was made of pure silver, but it was framed by elegant strips of gold that actually resembled tendrils more than strips on its outer edges. These little decorative moldings were placed around this piece that was shaped like a heart. I remember my grandmother's face when she gave it to me. I had been sitting in a cross-legged position on the couch, a book on my lap that I had left open in spite of the celebrations around me. When she placed it gently on the pages, I looked up at her and smiled slowly. My family busied themselves for a time in another section of our wood house, preparing as they were for the next part of the day's festivities. My grandmother moved the hand-knitted feather pillows aside while she took her seat next to me.
She enveloped me with love, squeezing my hand tightly while whispering an explanation in my ear. I'll never forget the feel of her scented body beside me, or the words that she whispered to me after placing her hand over mine, the locket still buried underneath my palm.
"This is for you. It's yours now. The locket was a family heirloom that my mother passed on to me. It's a secret legend that no one will ever be able to attain, for I myself do not know what is enclosed within the locket. The piece has no key, but for centuries this missing part has distinguished the item. It is rumored that the locket holds something that the family desperately would like to have." She left her words hanging over me. During that pause, a million things in my mind entered.
"But, grandmother . . . isn't there - " She placed a finger upon my lips.
"You keep it hidden. It would not surprise me any if whatever the secret is, you shall be the one to reveal it. But let's not think on it. Today is your day."