A mother and daughter came in today to buy a pendant, and, oh, my god, that this world has such creatures in it! The mother owns a crystal pendant, a simple point in a silver setting, that the girl admires; she’ll look at it, turn it over, count the sides. So the mother promised that if the daughter behaved well, like a big girl, she’d get one of her own on her fifth birthday.
The little girl was so dazzled by our store, she didn’t have much of an opinion in choosing the stone–she’d have happily gone home with a pretty piece of glass. So the mom chose. She picked a half-inch quartz pendant with an inclusion, a little green cloud of chlorite. We strung it for her on a slim sterling silver box chain.
After her mother latched the chain around her girl’s neck, I led them to the full-length mirror. The little girl lifted her stringy dark hair up from the back and looked at herself, avoiding her own dark eyes, and gave her reflection a bashful smile. She’d take it.
While we were running the credit card, cutting off price tags and giving the silver a last wipe with the tarnish cloth, Ashley told the little girl about the properties of the chlorite and the properties of the quartz. I made up some bullshit about how the chlorite within the crystal was like the child waiting to grow into the woman.
The little girl attended all this as if she were surrounded by angels.