Corona Chronicles: Daisy Chain Gang

Top: Daisy Fay Earrings, Daisy Star Earrings 

Bottom: Daisy May Earrings

During the week, my parents watch my nephew and niece while my sister and her husband are working.  Sometimes, the kiddies like to get into my mom's costume jewelry box.  They love the variety of colors and shapes, piling on the bangles and wearing the necklaces as belts.  My mom recently mentioned that seeing all of her beloved things sometimes makes her sad because it reminds her that before the quarantine, she used to wear them out to dinner, to the movies, and on trips, back when, as she put it, she had a life.  That got me thinking about my own jewelry, not so much wearing it (because I do that here, dear blog), but about selling it because I haven't moved a piece since I closed my Etsy shop last March.  I thought about what my mom said and about what that jewelry would say if it could.  So here's what I imagine might go on in that seemingly inanimate world, starring three pairs of earrings I made last week.

"How long do you think we've been in here?" squeaked Daisy May, the rhinestones in her teardrop charms winking.  

Daisy Fay sighed.  It was a sound that had become common, if incongruous with her cheerful cherry charms.  "You know it's been almost a year." 

Daisy May slumped in the corner, resigned to yet another nap, leaving Daisy Fay to contemplate the jungle of junk jewels around her.  These brooches, bracelets, and necklaces were her friends.  She remembered when their owner, Annie, had chosen Spotty Dottie, a yellow polka dot bangle, and Rainbow Moon June, a celestial-themed charm necklace, to wear along with her own earring self out to dinner back in mid-March of 2020.  As always, Annie sang Don't Worry, Be Happy as she got ready, pausing with a little laugh to tell her husband, Danny, that the night's outing would be their last supper.  The news about the spread of COVID-19 was growing worse every day, and Annie and Danny had decided that they would have one last hurrah before quarantining.  They had feasted lavishly that night, indulging in stuffed mushrooms, mozzarella sticks, and double fudge brownie sundaes along with their surf and turf.  Daisy May had enjoyed the fanfare, shining even more brightly when the waitress complimented Annie on her earrings.  Sure, Spotty Dottie and Rainbow Moon June had bristled, bitter because no one noticed them.  But after the first week in the dark of the unopened drawer, the feud had faded because all they had was each other.  

"Do you think we'll ever come out again?" Spotty Dottie asked Daisy Fay at the end of that week.  

"I don't know," sighed Daisy Fay.  

She herself wondered if Annie might slip her through her earlobes for a Zoom meeting or even just to watch TV.  After all, wearing jewelry made Annie so happy when she went out; why couldn't it bring her the same joy when hibernating at home?  Deep down, Daisy Fay didn't think it would happen, though.  But she didn't want to admit that to Spotty Dottie -- or to herself.  Now it was nearly twelve months later, and the drawer had opened only twice, once when Annie reached for a green ring to match to a paint chip for the living room, and once to confirm that she hadn't donated a Bakelite bangle (they called her Baker Betty, on account of her origin and her considerable girth) to Goodwill because she'd been on eBay and found out it was worth two hundred dollars.  

To pass the time, Daisy Fay and the others played Truth or Dare, Never Have I Ever, and Twenty Questions.  Daisy Fay learned lots of interesting things.  For example, once when Annie's sister had borrowed Daisy May, Daisy May ripped the sister's earlobe on purpose because the sister called her cheap.  And Tiger Eye Tina, a snazzy striped ring, revealed that Annie had pinched her from the clearance tray at Macy's and wore her right out of the store.  Tiger Eye Tina erupted into giggles at the memory, exclaiming, "Now, that's what I call a five-fingered discount!"  But the biggest surprise was that Daisy Star had been brainstorming ways to escape.  "If we all link to each other," she explained, "I think we can build the momentum we need to force the drawer open."  

Everyone was quiet.  Then a small whimper rippled the silence.  It was Daisy May, her teardrop charms living up to their name.  "I used to think of us as a daisy chain, as something that brings happiness.  But now we're just a daisy chain gang, trapped here like prisoners."  

Daisy Fay started to tell Daisy May not to be so melodramatic, but when she tried to speak nothing came out.  She was tired of being the one everyone turned to, especially when she didn't have anything good to say.  Then she heard the familiar sound of wood hitting wood, only more clumsily, as if the person on the other side of the drawer didn't know what he or she was doing.  Soon a sliver of light sliced the dark like a laser.  Unintelligible gurgles replaced the wood sound, and a toddler grinned down at them.  

"Sparky!" the toddler giggled, her chubby, sticky fingers closing around Baker Betty.  

"Oh no, sweetie, not that one."  Annie delicately yet firmly extricated the vintage bauble from the toddler's grasp.  The toddler screamed, then burst into tears.  Annie plucked Bubblegum Belinda from the pile, then deposited her at the toddler's feet.  Transfixed, the toddler stopped crying and picked it up.

Under ordinary circumstances, the jewelry would cringe at the thought of being manhandled by a saliva-slicked rugrat.  But these times were anything but ordinary.  They were thrilled to be sprung from their cell, appreciated by even the most dubious of admirers.  So they cheered with all the pent-up hope of nearly three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days, releasing an exuberant roar.    

Annie cocked her head. "Did you hear something?"   

The toddler looked up at her and smiled, Bubblegum Belinda's bright pink plastic encircling her tiny wrist.  "Sparky talk!" she insisted, then dissolved into laughter.  It was the most beautiful sound that the jewelry had heard since even before the pandemic.  

"Sparky talk?  You're such a little silly!" Annie tickled the toddler, which lead to more laughter.  "Jewelry doesn't talk!  Your grandmom's hearing things."  

That made the jewelry cheer again, although this time inwardly.  They were delighted that the toddler heard them, connecting with them on a level that adults couldn't.  But they didn't want to cause a stir and risk being shoved back into captivity.  So they stifled their mirth and savored being out in the world. 

Even if, these days, the world had shrunk down to one room.  

Before I go, I'd like to point out that although this story was inspired by real events, it's fiction.  To my knowledge, none of my crafty creations have the gift of speech.  Although if I find out that they do, then I'll have to start charging more -- or less, depending on what they say.  

By the way, my mom did call her last dinner out her "last supper."  

But rest assured that she's no shoplifter.