As a child, my grandmother was someone I looked up to. I mean this less literally. His arrival at the front door was cause for celebration. I jumped into her open arms as a big smile appeared on her face, before a warm giggle exploded from her chest. Grandma June was more than just a loving grandmother, she was a visual spectacle. Her hair was always freshly curled, her pink lipstick was flawlessly applied, and her nails constantly changed color. Each visit meant a livelier outfit than the last. Every aspect of her was captivating. Yet, what fascinated me most was her vast jewelry collection. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay. Jewels covered her body, extending from her ears to her fingers, matching forever. My favorite piece, the one she always wore, was her gold charm bracelet. The chain, made up of oval-shaped links that alternate between smooth and rigid textures, barely fit on her wrist. The entire time she had the bracelet, only two charms hung on the chain. One is a ballerina with a hollowed out central part, designed for inserting the foot inside, with small lateral incisions similar to embroidery. At the tip there is a delicate pink gem. The other is a wishing well, with a triangular roof that features markings resembling wood. Below is the spindle attached to a handle that protrudes outward (which can sting your hand painfully). Both stand on top of the circular brick pit. I often think back to the moments I spent with her in the living room of her bed and breakfast in Tsawwassen. There we sat on cushions, on opposite sides of the glass table. He stared into my eyes, waiting to tell me “go fishing,” as I stared at the gold chain around his wrist. Our visits passed while we played cards. Although I spent most of my time watching the bracelet slide up and down her arm. The games ended at dinner time. Grandma June always made my favorite dish, Annie's macaroni and cheese. I stood in the corner of the kitchen while she stirred the dough thoroughly while the spells wobbled. Once dinner was done, it was time for bed. With a happy stomach, I climbed into one of the twin beds in the upstairs bedroom. Tucking me in, he kissed my forehead and gently ran his hand over my face. The ballerina's shoe always ran down my cheek. These visits lasted for most of my childhood, until she became ill. Dementia caused everything in her to vanish; it was a body without a soul. The last years of his life were spent in hospitals and nursing homes. She no longer had the ability to maintain her appearance, even to wear her jewelry. The bracelet disappeared while she was ill. In fact, I had almost forgotten about it. That is until my aunt (Grandma June's executor) gave it to me. This was somewhat surprising, but touching because it meant that he had noticed my quiet charm. My aunt smiled and placed a small, gift-wrapped box in my hand, as if it were something I should be excited to have. I was. However, the circumstances were far from ideal. I smiled as I looked at the gold bracelet in my hands, my eyes watering and my lips trembling softly. I struggled to put it on, enlisting the help of Aunt Shelly. It didn't fit well at first, the chain almost slipped off my wrist. It was initially cold to the touch, but warmed up as it spent more time around my arm. The gold chain glittered against the light; I have.