Pearl Earrings: Object Writing

Jasmine rushed around her room, stumbling over the countless items of clutter that were carelessly tossed around her room. Jasmine’s mornings went the same everyday: she woke up to the final snooze of her alarm going and proceeded to spend the entire morning recklessly running around late for school. But, following the chaos of her hectic school mornings came a one, fleeting moment of serenity as she would stand in front of her oak wood dresser. Every morning as she would stand in front of that dresser she would pause, and then ever so carefully, pick up her set of pearl earrings and clasp them on each of her ears. Pausing, in remembrance of her mother who had passed away just six short months prior. I say short, but to Jasmine those months drug on like eternity, never ending, every day just as bad as the day before. The pearl earrings belonged to Jasmine’s mother, who shared the same dark black hair as Jasmine did. The whites of the pearls perfectly contrasting and standing out against Jasmine’s jet black hair as she stood in front of her dresser and remembered the day her mother put them on for the very last time.

Jasmine could remember it like the day was yesterday, she could remember every detail of her mother’s last morning down to the minute. Jasmine had placed herself on the edge of her mother’s neatly made bed, it crumpling up beneath her. Her mother standing directly in front of her, tossing her hair to one side and placing the earring through one of her ears, before proceeding to do the same with her other ear. Her pleasant perfume filled the room as she made casual conversation with Jasmine about the day that was to proceed the two of them. Looking back, Jasmine remembers how unengaged she was in that last conversation with her mother. She wishes more than anything that she would have stopped her mother, told her not to take the bus that day, told her that she could drive the car to work that day. But instead, Jasmine took the car to school and her mother boarded the bus with her briefcase in one hand and her purse slung over the shoulder of her other arm. She gave Jasmine a quick kiss on the top of her forehead and said, “Be good today Jasmine.” Half joking, and half being serious, as this is what she told Jasmine every morning before leaving for work. This was the daily routine between the two, Jasmine thought nothing of it until the day her mother was no longer there to complete the routine with her every morning.

Jasmine snapped out of her trance just as her dad banged on her bedroom door, “Jasmine it’s time to go. You’re going to be late, again.” His voice sounded so broken and fragile, almost as if his words would be the last thing that Jasmine could handle. She replied a steady, “Okay” while she admired her earrings for a second longer before transitioning her long black hair from behind her ears to over her ears, covering the shimmering whites of the pearl earrings. She remembered how bright and white the pearls used to look to her when her mother wore them, and to other people she’s sure they still look like this, but to her they no longer sparkle. They look dull and subdued, covered with the pain and the loss of her mother. Jasmine still wears them regardless of what they look like to her though, because this is what helps her carry on the morning routine she shared with her mother, who is no longer there to wear the earrings herself.

Author's Note: This writing was inspired by the pearl earrings that my mother wears everyday and our conversations in the morning.