Frozen In Time

The two pictures are tiny, cut into less than one-inch squares to fit into the two sides of the gold locket. There is a miniscule clasp on one side of the locket which allows it to open up like a book. When the locket is closed, it looks like a solid square of gold, and unless you knew it opened up to reveal those two pictures, you wouldn't think it was a locket at all.

I saw that square of gold every day for years. My mother wore it on a thin gold chain around her neck. Every day, no matter what she was wearing, that locket was around her neck.  I doubt very much she slept with it on.... she was much too practical for that.  Wear jewelry to bed? With pajamas?  Not a chance. I imagine that every morning after she got dressed, she would put on her wedding rings, her watch, her necklace. I have to wonder how often she opened up the little gold square to look at the pictures that were inside. Or maybe she didn't have to..... she would of course know exactly what was inside.

On my very first day of school, I distinctly remember my mother bending down to re-tie the laces of my shoes.  Black and white saddle shoes, regulation shoes to go with the Catholic school uniform of green and yellow plaid. As my mother tied the laces (which were fine to begin with) the little gold square dangled from the chain around her neck. Back and forth, back and forth went that locket. I remember staring at it as my mother tied those laces and told me to 'sit up straight and listen to the nuns.'

I had no way of knowing then that the little square of gold opened up to reveal those pictures. Had I known, I probably would have been asking my mother all day long to "Let me see..... let me see.... let me see the pictures."  My mother was a practical woman. She wouldn't have had time for such endless requests.

There were a couple of years when the absence of that necklace was very evident.  I remember wondering why my mother wasn't wearing it. And did she miss it?  Did she lose it? Was she just too busy to put it on every morning?  I never did ask.  I learned early on not to ask questions. "People will tell you what they want you to know. Don't ask about anything else."  To this day, I don't ask many questions.  That's not exactly a good habit to have, and it's a very hard habit to break. 

When I was in the fifth grade, that little square of gold re-appeared. But it wasn't on a chain around my mother's neck. It was on daddy's watch chain. He called it a 'fob.'  Daddy never wore a wrist-watch. His timepiece of choice was a pocket watch, and he seemed to love it when someone asked him "Have you got the correct time?"  My dad would smile, move his jacket aside, reach for the pocket watch and press that little lever to open the cover of the watch.  Not only would he give the person the exact time, but he'd leave the watch open for a bit so the watch could be admired.

And on that watch chain that my dad wore every single day, there was that same little square of gold. Without a doubt, it was the little square that my mother had worn on a chain around her neck. Don't ask questions. People will tell you what they want you to know.  I never asked.  And that surprises me even now.

When my dad retired from his job, he still carried the pocket watch. My Uncle Mino offered to buy him a wrist-watch for Christmas one year, but daddy told him to "save his money.... or spend it on someone else."  Daddy didn't want a watch on his wrist. He wanted his pocket watch, in his pocket, hanging on that gold link chain. Every couple of years, my Uncle would urge him to get a new watch. My dad insisted there was nothing wrong with his old watch. "I'll put my pocket watch up against your wrist-watch any day.... we'll see which one keeps better time," daddy would say.

When I was in high school, my dad told me that people didn't ask strangers if they had the correct time anymore. "Maybe everyone has a watch now," he said.  "Or maybe it's just because they don't want to talk to people they don't know.  That never bothered anyone years ago, but these days, you just never know."  My dad gave me a wrist-watch when I started high school.  He told me that if anyone asked me if I had the correct time, I should tell them that I didn't have a watch. "You never know.... these days.... they might be trying to steal watches."

My dad never went out of the house without his pocket watch. On the watch chain was that little square of gold. Always. In my twenties, my thirties, my forties. Always that little square of gold that once hung around my mother's neck when I was a child. And still, I never asked.

In my fifties, daddy passed away.  After a while, my Aunt Dolly sent me my dad's jewelry case. "Your father wanted you to have that case," she told me over the phone. On the day the package arrived, I let it sit on the dining room table for a few hours.  I knew the jewelry case was in the mailing box, but I didn't know what was inside the case.

The house was very quiet when I finally opened up the package. I was the only one at home. The cats were sleeping on the porch, the dog was sleeping in the hallway near my husband's office. The proverbial pin could have dropped in the dining room that day and it would have sounded like a sonic boom.

When I opened the jewelry case, my eyes took in all the "Safe Driving" medals from my dad's job with the NYC Transit Authority.... his medals from World War II.... his favorite fountain pens.... cuff links and tie-tacks.... the wedding picture of my dad and my mother, and his pocket watch on the chain, with that little square of gold. That was the first thing I reached for, my hands shaking and my eyes brimming over with little puddles of tears. That little square was so familiar, so smooth and shining... and I could see it dangling back and forth from my mother's neck as she tied my shoelaces on my first day of school.... and I saw it hanging from daddy's watch chain as we walked along Atlantic Avenue to get ice cream or walked into Radio City Music Hall.

I closed my eyes and just held that little gold square in my hand, rubbing it and turning it over and over and over.... and that's when my fingers felt the little catch on the side. The teeniest little clasp of gold that opened up that square and my breath stopped for a few seconds when I realized it was a locket.  It had always been a locket, and no one had ever said.... and I had never asked.

Two pictures stared up at me...... my dad on the left, in his Army uniform, and my mother on the right, in her nurse's uniform. They were both so young..... they weren't even married when those pictures were taken...... they probably hadn't even met one another yet, and as for me.... I wasn't even a glimmer of hope or the wing of a butterfly at that time.

My dad is smiling in that picture.... his Army hat is tilted a bit to one side, and he looks so handsome and so happy, as if he's just made everyone laugh. I'm sure that photo was taken before he was shipped over to Europe, before he landed on the beaches at Normandy.  And my mother... she is standing there in her "nurse's whites" with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and the biggest smile on her face.  She is young, so young, and so very pretty.

I closed the lid of my dad's jewelry case, but held that locket in my hand as I called my Aunt Dolly. I told her the package had arrived safely. I asked her about the locket, hoping she would know. "There's a little gold locket in here..... it has pictures of my mother and my dad.... do you know anything about that?"  Of course she knew.....

"Your father gave your mother that locket before they got married.  Your father cut those pictures very carefully, to make sure they would fit into the locket.  I remember the day he cut them, right here on my kitchen table.... he measured them three times before he cut them with a razor blade to make sure they were perfect. Your mother wore that locket every day, every day, every day.... but when she left your father, she didn't take any of the gifts he had given her. When your father realized your mother wasn't coming back, he wore that locket on his watch chain every day, every day. He never took it off."

I told my Aunt Dolly that I remembered seeing that locket on a chain around my mother's neck when I was little..... and I remembered seeing it on daddy's watch chain when I got older.  "I didn't know it was a locket, Aunt Dolly. I didn't know it opened up.... I had no idea there were pictures in that square of gold."

And my Aunt Dolly said to me, very quietly... "Why didn't you ask?"

My mother and my father were married for ten years. They were divorced for 47 years. My mother wore that locket on her necklace for nearly eleven years. My dad wore the locket on his watch chain for 46 years.  They both died in the Summer of 2008, less than two months apart. Three weeks after receiving the jewelry case with the locket, I had a jeweler attach the locket to my gold bracelet.

The wedding picture that was in my dad's jewelry case was one of two that I remember as a child. A larger photo, identical to the smaller one in daddy's case, used to hang on the dining room wall in our house in Woodhaven.  When my mother left my dad, she took that picture with her, but she carefully cut around the image of her groom..... the remaining picture was kept for years in a cedar chest, the bride without the groom.  In my dad's jewelry case, the 4x6 picture had been taped to the inside top of the lid..... it would be seen when the case was opened.  I put that picture in a pretty frame, the handsome groom and the beautiful bride.  It sits now on a buffet sideboard in our living room, next to the wedding picture of my husband's parents.  Friends will comment on both pictures... I just tell them that those are our parents' wedding photos.  I don't mention that my husband's parents were married for nearly 50 years...... and my parents were divorced for a longer time than they were married.  The two young couples look radiantly happy in the pictures, and that's all that matters to anyone who didn't know them.

I celebrated my 61st birthday this year....and I wear that gold square locket on my bracelet. I don't wear it every day, every day..... if it ever got lost, there would be no replacement. On the days I don't wear it, I open up the locket and look at the pictures of my mother and my father.  I see how young they were..... my father is handsome, my mother is beautiful.... they are happy and they are smiling. They were filled with life, with hope, with possibilities. And within each of them, there was the glimmer of me, waiting somewhere, just waiting to be.

And every day now, every day.... I wonder if it could be possible..... could they look now as they did in those pictures.... are they once again young and happy and smiling.... and together?  Photographs, whether old or new, capture just the moment and freeze it for eternity... there's no way to tell, by looking at a photo, what happened just before or what will come afterwards.

Dreams and wishes are made of hope and possibilities.