Woven

The true story of the life and love of a friendship bracelet

There once was a woven bracelet.  She was brown and black and another brown.  She lived in a basket on the ground, until someone came and traded for her. 

The someone didn’t just pick her up and force her in a pocket.  The someone rifled around all the bracelets until the someone found two that were exactly the same: brown and black and another brown.  The someone tied the two around her wrist and waited.

The bracelet couldn’t help but notice he who was exactly like her.  Well, he was exactly like her, except he was a he. 

“Hello,” said the she bracelet.

“Hello,” said the he bracelet. 

They cuddled close together, tied on a wrist.  They talked, and occasionally rubbed into each other.  They noticed that while they were very similar, they were also different.  His edges were folded a little ruggedly.  Hers smoothed together and couldn’t be followed.   But the two talked and rubbed and eventually, became friends.

Some might say that they jumped into things, but they didn’t.  They were tied together by a giant someone, who had a bigger idea in mind.

After driving for a very long time, the someone pulled the he bracelet off and gave it to another someone. 

The she bracelet expected to miss her friend dearly, but she found (the way that friendship bracelets always do) that she actually felt closer to him now that he had his own wrist.  And she tied her knot a little tighter.

The he and she bracelet saw each other frequently.  They treasured each other’s company and thought only of the other while they were apart.

“I love you,” the he bracelet said.

“I love you too,” the she bracelet said.

Sometimes, when the she bracelet would come for a visit, she couldn’t find the he bracelet.  There was his wrist, but where was his friendship? 

Once, while the she bracelet was avoiding a waterslide, her wrist forgot to retrieve her.  She was lost for a very long time and her wrist began to forget that he and she were in love.

The she bracelet doubted and wondered.  She didn’t want to be without the he bracelet, but they were so far apart.  She thought how sometimes their rubbing didn’t seem like rubbing.  It seemed like friction.

The wrist found her again and tied her tight.  This time, she would not be forgotten or untied.  Her decision was made and she would be with him again.

The she and he bracelet talked and rubbed.  Sometimes they frictioned.

“But I love you,” she said.

“But I love you too,” he said.

On a morning after a windy night, the she bracelet hurried to the he bracelet for consolation.  But he was not on his wrist.  He was not there at all.

The she bracelet struggled and strained.  The she bracelet pulled on her weaving, longing to undo the braid.  The wrist resisted.  The wrist was strong.  The wrist wanted to allow love. 

In time, the bracelet prevailed and came undone.

The wrist of the he bracelet recognized her.  She had fallen, but his fingers would tie her back together.  The brown and the black and the other brown could be rewoven!

She, tied together in a makeshift knot, held on.  But she knew the end was coming.

The she bracelet went on a walk.  She did not plan to go, but the wrist insisted.  The walk was longer than expected.

The she bracelet was almost home when her makeshift ties began to slip.  Her wrist did not notice as the browns and the blacks and the other browns came completely undone.  She slipped to the ground.

She did not wait there long.  Her wrist came rushing back to her with fingers moist and salty.  The bracelet was off the ground, but at last, she could not be woven back together.

The fingers held her tightly, as if she meant something more than friendship.  The rubbing of the fingers, reminded her of the he bracelet.  She knew that because she could no longer tie, she could no longer be close to him.  She was disconnected.  She was undone.

Her wrist cared for her so much that the wrist refused to put her in the trash.  The wrist placed her in the bottom of a jewelry box, mixed in with other old or broken things.  The bracelet did not feel alone.  The bracelet knew that she had lived and loved.  Now it was time for her to learn.  She looked around at the other broken things and realized that they all had a mature beauty.  She looked at her own brown and black and other brown and did not regret her colors.  She was undone, but she had served her purpose. 

Nestled in the new air at the bottom of the jewelry box, she dreamed of the he bracelet and she drifted off to sleep.