What is not taken from you

Mine were far from being Napoleon's jewels stolen from the Louvre, but mine were stolen the day before and they were the ones that mattered to me. They were my souvenirs. I don't know if Napoleon's will ever be found, as they are difficult to sell. The gold that was stolen from me will be melted down, but the memories that each piece aroused will never be melted down. 

We never go out on Fridays for dinner, the five of us, but that night was special. My oldest daughter was turning eighteen. She had said she wanted to celebrate with us, at an oriental restaurant, the same day as her birthday, and the next day with her friends. At about half past seven we left the house, and returned about two hours later. A cake and a bottle of spumante were waiting for us in the refrigerator. I had the glasses ready, it was toast day. When we arrived home, my husband noticed something strange when we entered our bedroom and said out loud: "What is this big mess? A second later, my son said in a surprised tone that the window was open, while I saw some drawers of a piece of furniture in the living room open. It was clear and my body froze all at once. 

It had been such a short time since the intruders had been inside the house that we still «felt» their presence and felt fear. Feeling that someone has entered your house without your permission to steal leaves you with a tremendous bad feeling. My little daughter started crying and shaking. I told her that nothing was wrong and she answered me: «It's just that you're not afraid because you're older.». 

I was afraid to see what the thieves had taken. They emptied a box where the few valuable jewels I had «slept». That box contained, among the jewelry, an old bag in which there were some gold and coral earrings with a matching ring that my grandmother wore when she went to mass on Saturdays and that she had given me a few months before she died at the end of one summer. I think that was the only thing of value she had in her life and I accepted it knowing that she sensed her end. 

Not even the thieves (skilled in distinguishing gold from scrap) suspected that there was a jewel in that old bag inside that box. As I remember, I never took my grandmother's gift out of that rare wrapping.  

Life is a mystery in which we learn every day. I notice that everything is a process of detachment. Each piece of jewelry that the thieves took was a memory of a moment in my life. They could steal all my jewelry, but once again, I am convinced that objects are a materialization of a feeling. That night my grandmother did not allow thieves to take her gift. If it hadn't been in the old bag they would have taken them, but sometimes appearances can be deceiving. The gold and coral earrings were worn by her great-granddaughter at the dinner she had with her friends to celebrate her 18th birthday, the day after.