{"id":12712,"date":"2009-06-01T11:43:53","date_gmt":"2009-06-01T11:43:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/production.ou.org\/life\/other\/zoldan_jewels_story_sparkles_tell\/"},"modified":"2015-10-30T06:26:53","modified_gmt":"2015-10-30T11:26:53","slug":"zoldan_jewels_story_sparkles_tell","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.ou.org\/life\/inspiration\/zoldan_jewels_story_sparkles_tell\/","title":{"rendered":"The Story the Sparkles Tell"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"image\"<\/div>\n

l sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor with my daughters at my side. They are six and three. On the floor between us, my black jewelry box lies open. My daughters\u2019 eyes are wide and glittery. \u201cOh Mommy,\u201d Atara breathes reverently, \u201cit\u2019s so fancy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Ilana, echoes, \u201cso fancy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I can feel their little fingers itching to touch and hold, so I lift each piece up toward the light. Out come the tiny ruby studs, my oldest piece of jewelry. \u201cZaidy bought these for me when I was born.\u201d I smile remembering the old family story. My father, enchanted with his first daughter, wanted to buy diamonds, but my mother thought that was too ostentatious for a newborn. And so, the compromise, little ruby studs for my little pink ears. That first gift was important. It taught me that even before I was known, I was loved.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe got earrings when we were born, right Mommy?\u201d Atara asks. Yes, it\u2019s true. They were loved, too.<\/p>\n

I place them back in the box and bring out a tiny bangle. \u201cMy grandmother gave me this when I was two,\u201d I say. Atara turns toward Ilana, \u201cThat\u2019s even littler than you!\u201d<\/p>\n

In a sudden flash comes the memory of raising my pudgy dimpled arm to my mouth to bite the bracelet. How I cried afterward when I saw that my teeth had left an indentation in the gold! This was a lesson which would last a lifetime. Namely, some things should not be bitten. I finger the bite mark. \u201cDelicate things are delicate, girls,\u201d I say firmly and they nod as though they understand.<\/p>\n

Tucked into the corner I find my small gold ring. I remember that Pesach, the year I turned six. My grandparents from Israel were staying with us. \u201cAnd what do you want for Afikomen, Mamala?\u201d my grandfather asked, smiling with his deep blue eyes. \u201cA gold ring like Ima\u2019s,\u201d I answered. I was the oldest granddaughter and my Zaidy was wrapped tightly around my little finger. Just days later he presented me with a heart shaped ring, \u201cFor you, Yaely!\u201d<\/p>\n

After all these years I still remember my grandfather\u2019s love for us, the grandchildren born in his old age and I see that love can make people foolish, but it is a gentle foolishness, and one to be cherished. \u201cFrom my Zaidy,\u201d I whisper. \u201cWhy you sad, Mommy?\u201d Ilana asks, confused. I smile, \u201cSometimes we sound sad because we\u2019re happy,\u201d I say and I know that it makes no sense to them at all.<\/p>\n

After, there were others. A pearl in a gold setting which kept falling off, proving that beautiful things are not always good. An emerald pin given by the cousin who I knew had never liked me which taught me that gifts from someone who doesn’t love you may be expensive, but they are never precious. Then an ornate Magen David charm which my grandfather spotted, incongruously, in a small shop in Texas. From this I learned that beauty can be found in the most obscure places if one is inclined to look for it.<\/p>\n

The fiery opal my parents gave for my graduation sparkled with their love and expectations. The bracelet they bought when I started dating was a golden bond between us. Wherever life took me, I would carry them with me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you might have too much jewelry, Mommy,\u201d Atara says, slyly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNice try, Atara,\u201d I answer.<\/p>\n

The girls touch the shiny stones. They have just been bathed and smell sweetly of coconut shampoo and cherry Chapstick. They want, they want and one day they will have. Finally, I reach to snap the box shut and the thin gold band on my finger catches the light. \u201cDaddy gave this to me when I was just a girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

My daughters giggle softly. They don\u2019t really believe that I was ever just a girl. They are certain I was born as their mother. I stare at my ring, so familiar that it fades into the background of my life, unnoticed. I remember how the cameras flashed and the music played as he slipped it on to my finger. I didn\u2019t know then that it would become such a part of me. I really was just a girl.<\/p>\n

I have been quiet too long and my daughters have grown impatient.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho will give me and Ilana rings?\u201d Atara demands, her small chin lifted. She is full of such questions. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I answer. \u201cBut I hope he will be kind and good and make you happy.\u201d I close my eyes and wish that the heavens hear me and answer my prayer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I hope it will be sparkly,\u201d Atara answers firmly. \u201cYeah, sparkly!\u201d says Ilana.<\/p>\n

I smile at my daughters, so shiny and new. They will have to learn their own lessons from their own jewels, I see. Gently, I place the box back in the small drawer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho wants to try on fancy hats?\u201d I ask. And we run, laughing, into the closet to play.<\/p>\n

\n

Yael Zoldan is a Brooklyn girl, who lives in Passaic, New Jersey, with her husband and children. Somewhere between carpool and laundry she finds the time to write.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

l sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor with my daughters at my side. They are six and three. On the floor between us, my black jewelry box lies open. My daughters\u2019 eyes are wide and glittery. \u201cOh Mommy,\u201d Atara breathes reverently, \u201cit\u2019s so fancy.\u201d \u201cYeah,\u201d Ilana, echoes, \u201cso fancy.\u201d I can feel their little fingers<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":227,"featured_media":46049,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_cloudinary_featured_overwrite":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[85],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12712","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-inspiration"],"yoast_head":"\nThe Story the Sparkles Tell - OU Life<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"After all these years I still remember my grandfather\u2019s love for us & I see love can make people foolish, but it is a gentle foolishness one to be cherished\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.ou.org\/life\/inspiration\/zoldan_jewels_story_sparkles_tell\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Story the Sparkles Tell - 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