The things that remain

The locket wasn't much to look at, it was worn with it's silver finish having been tarnished time and time again. It needed a good cleaning, but in these days of hand to mouth living, nobody thought about trivial matters such as those.

But It was my 13th birthday, and my mother had saved up a little each week from her ration cards for me to be able to buy whatever I wanted from the trading post.

She sat with me in the dim light of the fireplace the night before. She talked about when she had turned 13 and how the world was then.

I listened with rapt attention to details

About how electricity used to be used for everything, no one had to crank up generators, and how there were computers, cell phones, movie theaters, grocery stores instead of ration shacks . She said that the microwave oven could cook everything in record time and how tons of cars sped along on the elevated abandoned expressway that loomed like a giant just beyond our neighborhood. Some of the rusted hulks still remained up there.

A somber testament to what happens after a nuclear war. It had been 15 years since the bombs, and yet little had been accomplished as far as technology.

People were just trying to live, not create or build or even hope. Just living was a feat of unimaginable strength.

I wondered to myself If I would ever see these things that she did. If I would ever live a life of luxury like she once did.

My mother was strong of body, with blonde hair that fell down her back like a viking princess. Her skin was lightly tanned and her eyes, although blinded by the flash of the first bomb, were an ethereal sky blue.

Everyone said, that she should have died in the blast, or later from the radiation, but she had dodged all of that out of pure honrey persistence.

She said that she had dreamt of having a little girl and when I came along she knew she had been preserved for a purpose.

I ,on the other hand, looked like my father through and through. He had skin the color of mahogany, and deep green eyes that seemed to look right through your soul .

Tall and thin, some would say gangly with a voice that danced in the air around your ears bringing a smile to your lips

He had passed from cancer two years ago, and now it was just me and mom.

The morning of my Birthday dawned with the sky alight with happy yellows pinks and reds . There was a hint of a breeze that kissed my skin as I strolled the short street to the place where you could trade rations for all kinds of trinkets.

As the creaky door swung open, the light crossed the jewelry counter and

Had settled, as chance would have it, on my locket.

I was nervous. It seemed that a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach as I stared at this treasure. I was just a simple girl, and had never owned any kind of finery worth mentioning, but this one thing had been so anticipated, that my hands worked up a sweat as I waited my turn. There were three people ahead of me in line, and so I stood there nervously shifting my scant weight from side to side as they each looked over Items in the case.

The man before me in line I had never seen before . He had long gray hair and brown eyes, and a mustache that moved comically as he spoke.

His coat was a threadbare twill sport coat, and his hands held a rather sizable stack of ration cards. Enough to purchase everything in the case, truth be told.

As he approached the shopkeeper he exclaimed " it's my wife's birthday today... Show me the most romantic thing you've got!".

Instantly my heart sunk as the shopkeepers eyes. Widened and fingers pointed to the locket.

It was heart shaped and with the right polish, would look like it came from a real jeweler.

"Well"..he said scratching his bearded chin" I don't know She's not really one for necklaces".

"It's the best thing in there", the shopkeeper said with his best salesman voice.

"How could he?" I thought recklessly to herself..until the old man's voice jolted me "what do you think of the locket little lady? "

"It is so beautiful", I said with a dreamy expression. His eyes softened... "You wanted this didn't you?" He said gently.

I was speechless.

Not knowing what to say I just gave a knod. He smiled so broadly that his mustache reached his ears.

"Sir" he said without turning from me. "How many rations for the locket? "

13 he replied .

"That's how old I am today " I said softly.

Slapping 13 ration cards onto the counter unceremoniously the old man said to the shopkeeper "hand me that locket sir." Looking it over as it said in his hand, he smiled to himself.

"Well" he said with a wink "I guess that calls for a birthday present doesn't it?"

"Now close your eyes little one and hold out your hands"

I closed my eyes and held out my hands and instantly felt the cold metal caress my palm. The locket was heavy for being so small. But it was breathtakingly beautiful and mine all mine.

"Now" he said, "you take those ration cards back home, or better yet get flour and sugar and eggs for a real birthday cake!".

He patted my cheeks and said " Happy birthday sweet girl".

I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. This little miracle he had performed had completely changed me forever.

It taught me that the love of one person, one act of random kindness

Can be the catalyst for a lifetime of giving and receiving and giving again.

Lessons like that have value far exceeding rations and lockets, birthdays and cakes. They are the things that remain.