I used to sneak into her bedroom and look through her treasure chests.

They sat on top of two long dressers, draped in intricate doilies she had crocheted herself.  One peek inside and I could see the handfuls of sparkly jewels.  Grandma Beatrice had brooches with clustered gems and necklace strands that glimmered. I thought she was rich (I had no idea what costume jewelry was).  She had quite a collection – with most of the pieces bought for her by Grandpa.

I would look at my reflection and tilt my head slightly as I held her earrings up to my ears or draped a necklace across my front.  She must have known what I was doing, but she never said anything.

When Grandma passed away, somehow I got this brooch.  It reminds me of her.