Category Archives: Nostalgia

A Necklace Made Out of Yarn and Ponybeads

Mother and I spent several hours at my apartment packing boxes to take to my storage unit. Yep, it looks like I’m going to be moving back home until I get married next December. That is unless I find a job and apartment closer to my boyfriend. Still, I’m not too concerned about living at home. It will give me a chance to save up some money for the wedding.

Anyway, that’s actually not what the post is about. The post is about something I thought of on my way home from my apartment. I was driving and while I cruised along I-35, I glanced at my rearview mirror. I decided that I wanted to make something to put on my rearview mirror after my campus parking permit expired. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to make (and am still at a loss for what to make).

Thinking of making a rearview mirror ornament reminded me of my favorite aunt’s ornaments that dangled from the rearview mirror. One of those ornaments was a necklace. It wasn’t a fancy necklace either. In fact, looking back now it was very tacky. Put together by a seven or eight year old me, it was my first endeavour at making jewelry. It consisted of seven or eight pony beads (most white, but a couple brown) haphazardly put on a gold pice of yarn. I remember making two of them and running downstairs to present my aunt with one of them. Oh was I so proud of myself!

The next time I got in her car, I saw it hanging on her rearview mirror. At such a young age I didn’t appreciate the prestige of rearview mirror ornaments, but after seeing it there several times I got used to seeing it on her rearview mirror and as time wore on I smiled every single time I saw it. Even when my aunt got a new car, all of the ornaments–including the necklace–were moved to the rearview mirror.

Almost two decades later, I reflect on that necklace. I’m sure that she simply put it on the rearview mirror for lack of something better to do with it, but for some odd reason I still smile when I think of that necklace. To me–and I could be wrong–hanging something on the rearview mirror (like baby shoes, etc) had almost as much prestige as a mother putting a child’s drawing of a “dog” on the refrigerator. It’s means a whole lot to a child.

By now my aunt has probably long since trashed that necklace or at least replaced it with a necklace–or something else–that her own daughter has made. Still, I’ll always treasure the memory that my necklace–though simple and childish–was hung on a rearview mirror for many years and anyone who rode in her car saw that necklace.