It is with great pleasure I bring you today's guest, Kristy Cambron.
By the world’s standards, it’s not worth very much. This
locket is tarnished and has a clock on the
inside that no longer ticks nor
tocks. The Eiffel Tower engraved on the front is nearly rubbed smooth from
being held so much. It’s made of anything but precious metal – but it’s that to
me.
It was not long after my birthday that Dad was admitted to
the hospital for a recurrence of the leukemia he was supposed to have been in
remission from. And while we couldn’t know it at the time, this would be the
last gift he would ever be able to give me.
It was wrapped in robin’s egg blue tissue paper – my
favorite color. He’d had it for a while, he said, but wanted to give it to me
in person and it kept slipping his mind. Until he was in the hospital. He had a
lot of time to think then. He handed it over, sheepish almost, and said: “You don’t have to wear it or anything.”
But I knew what it meant. My father loved his two daughters and was proud of
them as any father could be. But gift giving was sort of my mother’s department
growing up. She signed the cards, and managed the holiday gifts. So this locket
(for a daughter whom he knew loved Paris) was something that he couldn’t pass
up. My guitar-playing father was at a festival with his musical group and
something on a shopkeeper’s table caught his eye. I like to think that God sent
a little sunshine to glint against it, causing him to pause and think of me.
I’m moved by stories of nostalgia – by the beauty that can
be found in nominal things that carry the magic of a story with them. In The Butterfly and the Violin, Adele (a
violinist fighting for survival in Auschwitz) received a golden butterfly clip
from her love. Its value was little in the world’s eyes. But in hers? That clip
aided in her survival. She held it every day in the camp, like a treasure that
would remind her of days long since passed. I like to think the metal was
tarnished and the engraving rubbed smooth after a time, just like my beloved
locket. For Kája (an art teacher to the children of the Terezin ghetto) in A Sparrow in Terezin, it was a cross
necklace. Again – it was a gift given on the wings of falling in love and to
the world, it wasn’t worth much. But to her? It was a link straight to her
heart. An outward symbol – a reminder of sorts – that there was a love greater
than the hate that surrounded her.
I carry my Paris locket up on every stage in which I speak,
and keep it close at every book signing. It’s a treasure that means more to me
than I can say. What about you? Do you have a treasure that holds a story – one
in which the worth can’t be measured?
Kristy Cambron fancies life as a vintage-inspired storyteller. Her
debut historical novel, The Butterfly
Kristy is an Art/Design Manager at TheGROVEstory.com and holds a degree
in Art History from Indiana University. She lives in Indiana with her husband
and three football-loving sons, where she can probably be bribed with a coconut
mocha latte and a good Christian fiction read.
You can connect with Kristy at:
Lovely story...Thanks Kristy!
I hope you enjoyed the post. Stay tuned for more great treasures, thoughts and spotlights.
PamT
1 comment:
Greetings Pam ~
I had a book signing at the Southern KY Book Fest over the weekend, and guess what I kept in my pocket the entire time? Yes, the Paris locket came with me. Ah, the places it has traveled and the stories it could tell one day. I hope it will be a faithful companion for many years to come.
Thank you for allowing me to share this with your readers, and for giving me the opportunity to be a guest today.
Many blessings!
Kristy
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