My Golden “M”

The whole week I had been filled with a deepening excitement. It was October. This month of spooky festivities replenished my serotonin. Not only because of the annual commercial aspects with children running around in character masks and weapons, but because it was my birthday month. The plentiful homemade cards still smelled of Crayola markers and the crinkle of wrapping paper invoked a once-familiar memory of Christmas as a child. My nostrils quickly overflow with a mixture of baked goods that my mother had readied while I was away at school. My birthday had always felt special but not in a way that made it distinct from other days. Nothing really was different. We may have gone out to dinner or had some form of dessert made from a box, but I felt the same. On my 16th birthday, my perceptions undeniably changed. 

The night was quiet. As I see guests leave into darkness, the street light flickers in rhythm. Gloomy skies attempt to peek through the brand-new blinds installed by my father earlier that day. The TV illuminates the room in place of the faint light that lies in the corner desperately trying to brighten the whole space. My mix-matched socks drag against the carpet as I tread to lighten the mood with the flick of a switch. I feel the circulation of warm air against my rosy cheeks. The excitement rattles my bones. One guest remains present at the once lively celebration. It is my best friend, Krysten. The light to my darkness. The comfort to my pain. Those bright blue eyes are captivating, immediately drawing you into their depth and beauty. Her long, blonde hair cascades perfectly down her back like a waterfall. It bears a striking resemblance to a Disney princess. The way their hair magically is flawless when they arise from a deep slumber or after they take a quick dip in the ocean. The freckles that align her face are just like tiny stars, each one unique and perfectly placed to complement the other. 

With her living quite a distance, her presence at my party was very sentimental. I honestly didn't even care if she brought a gift or a handwritten note, all I cared about was that she was there. But being who she is, she obviously couldn't come empty-handed. 

A precisely wrapped gift is presented before my anxious body. My wandering hands begin to articulate where to begin. Krysten makes eye contact with me as I slowly unveil her gift. My focused eyes notice a small, light blue box, with engraved writing carved on its front side. I immediately withdraw the box and reveal its content. It was a golden necklace. 

The thin chain, with its delicate links, supports a small letter. It's an M. The letter is encrusted with small gems that align its figure. Its light chain is barely noticeable against my skin, almost like it's forgotten but always there. As my thumb brushes the necklace, I notice its smooth polished surface that is cold to the touch. 

How could something so simple represent something so much larger? In my 16 years of living, I had never received such a deeply thoughtful gift. It wasn't like the necklace was expensive or made of actual gold, it was the circumstance under which it was given to me. I had gifted her the same necklace with a K on it for her 16th birthday. She loved it. I even loved it too. In my first time receiving such an emotionally thought-out present, I also gave one. Now I wear this necklace every day- even as I'm writing this- as a reminder of our endless friendship. My perceptions of birthdays not only undeniably changed, but it changed me. Change in a way that made me realize that the celebration of my life could be presented with such value. It had always been the day I got older, but now I see it as more affectionate and nostalgic. All because I was given a necklace by my best friend, it was my golden “M.”