In his propellor plane, he can touch the sun

Okay, so here's something I'm going to write about because I really need to let go of it, and maybe writing will work. Maybe not, but it's worth a try. My grandmother died 3 years ago, and I got a few things (I'm shorthanding the story here, which is unfortunately putting it off to a greedy-sounding start. This is not true). Not much specifically, a bunch of really pretty bowl and things, the one specific thing she left me is this really nice quilt. But in particular, I found a bracelt of hers, really nice, imprinted silver. My mom also really liked it, but I had claimed it. I wore it all the time, it was one of my staple pieces of jewelry (along with my ring [there's another story behind that] and at the time a 4 leaf clover necklance. anyway) And two years ago, when I went to Camp, I handed it to my mother and said "here, hold on to this for me while I'm at Camp, I don't want anything to happen to it" (oh, you can all see where this is going), so while I'm at Camp, she goes to Maine, because my aunt is getting married. And for some unknown reason, she takes my bracelet with her. She thinks she was walking my aunts dogs, and the leash caught on it, and so now it is somewhere in the woods in Maine. Or maybe some one found it and is wearing it. Either way. I am so so incredibly angry about this. I still haven't forgiven her. This was something that I treasured enough not to take to a place where in all truth, I could have left it in my tent the whole time and not lost it. Why why why did she take it 3000 miles? Why did she wear it to walk the dogs? She felt terrible about it, but goddamn. I still have not forgiven her, two years later. Partially because it was the one bit of my grandmother, whom I loved very much and regretted not knowing better that I could have near me regularly, partially because it was a really nice bracelet, and partially because of the destroyed trust in my mother. And I hate that I can't let go of it. I look at it, and it seems so petty, but I cannot get away from being angry. I don't know. Anyway. Maybe now that I wrote it down, it'll fade more out of me until it just lives here. I hope so. I'd like to think I'm mature and sensible enough to get over it. But at the same time, there a little self-righteous part of me that really doesn't want to get over it, and is really indignant and furious and sad. I don't know if my mom knows how I feel. I don't really want to tell her. I mean, what good would it do, she can't really find it again, and I don't want a different one. It would just make her feel sad and guilty, and maybe defensive. What kind of resolution would that give me? I think telling her would be kind of pointless and counter-productive. Whatever. I'm tired. And done with this subject for now. Thanks for letting me rant. hah. Like you had any choice.