Pearls

On a random Friday that I had requested off from work, I decided to finally take my pearl necklace to the jewellers to be fixed. After two long years of sitting in my jewellery box in a state of disrepair, some pearls loose. It was one of those things I’d wanted to do for so long that it seemed to fall somewhere just outside of my memory. Something about having it repaired reminded me of the Ship of Theseus paradox.

At this point, the original clasp to the pearl necklace was long gone. At the consult it was said that the pearls required restringing onto a new metal wire. I had refused a silk string because of my veganism, which I voiced and I’m sure irked the jewellery store owner and no doubt made me look pretentious, but hey, morals are morals. After all, you were the one who once said that I decidedly had none. Despite this ethical belief which I’ve upheld for almost half of my life, which one would consider a moral decision. Yes, morals are morals, they are not jewellery, they are not so easily altered on a whim of a Friday afternoon.

The pearl necklace also required a new clasp, so essentially the only things that remained of the original necklace were the freshwater pearls themselves. Would they be restrung in the exact same order they had originally been in? I forgot to ask. A difference only discernible to me, I had thought, but it still felt important no less.

Not that I was able to tell when I did collect it. If we were to compare this necklace to that of the theoretical ship, quite a lot of the original materials were missing. It was basically just the hull left. And if the pearls were not restrung as they originally had been, then essentially nothing was the same on that necklace. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about this paradox, turning it over in my mind.

Was it still the same pearl necklace you had surprised me with that sunny afternoon one day after I had finished uni? Which you had put around my neck while we waited for the Craigieburn train at Melbourne Central Station? I no longer knew. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It still looks the same, I can still wear it. The sheer beauty of it still pleases me. It still feels nice around my neck. And even though it has changed so much, it will always remind me of you. Of your kindness and generosity. The way you loved to surprise me with things, when you could.

So many things do, and will continue to. I guess that’s life. Pearl necklaces may need repairs, but the pearls themselves remain the same as they were when they were pulled from the ocean; more or less. It’s the same with my memories of you. They remain the same no matter where they’re pulled from; despite the confusion and doubt that sometimes mar them. Despite the repairs, the reimagining, and the reconstructions that take place over time. They are still, more or less, stained with my adoration for you.

I don’t think I’ll ever know if you feel the same so, at least I still have a manifestation of your adoration of me - my beautiful pearl necklace - no matter how different it may look underneath. Maybe you’d see me now and think that I also maintain morals. That I have them, that they exist within me. That perhaps they always did. That maybe, you just couldn’t see them, or didn’t want to.