Tender Loving Stuff
Haul Out Blvd.
Dear Magic Carriage Rhinestone Broach,
This is a short note of apology, as you don’t really fit with jewelry apologies since your clasp, and a couple of your stones, have been broken for as long as I can remember.
You were the second of two gifts from Great Grandma. Apparently, I was always fascinated with your shiny stones when she held me so she let me play with you. She either gave you to me just before she died or made it clear that you were to be mine. When I was younger, my mother kept you in my tin box of valuables. When she was no longer concerned that you would accidently swallowed, you provided transportation for a miniature Cinderella and all the other imaginary princesses.
I don’t think the next generation will be interested in inheriting you. They never knew Great Grandma, and you are just paste – it seems I exhibited a taste for the cheap and gaudy from an early age. I do promise to get you fixed on the off-chance that some future kid might like to play with you.
P.S. From ancertry.com and family myth, we figured out that Great Grandma and Great Grandpa lied about their ages, and eloped to the next country when she was 15 and he was 17. They died in their eighties a few months apart. Relatives, who remember them better than I, say that he always treated her like his little princess.