After much deliberation over what to do with some leftover glass gems from a project 3 years earlier, I decided to try my hand at making jewelry with it. Turns out, you can actually make some great pendants from them!
I ended up making several, and with nothing better to do with them, I decided to open an Etsy shop. Well, that and my sister and a good friend asking if they could carry some of my wares in their shops/salons. Gave me a bit of confidence that I could actually pull this off.
It's a bit of a nice distraction from the mess of trying to get a book published, but of course this means that between that, my Etsy shop and my full time job, I've definitely got my hands full!
If you're interested in checking out my Etsy shop, the link is down below. I don't just sell jewelry, but cross stitch too, and possibly some other artwork in the future. Stop by and take a look!
Bobby
Hope is a funny thing. It plays tricks on you in ways you often cannot imagine until it's too late. Sometimes, this is a good thing. Other times, not so much. I made this discovery when I typed my mother's name into the ancestry website I signed up for. I had hopes as I typed on my little phone screen. Then, as I hit enter, I was momentarily terrified. What if there were no results?
It turns out the opposite was true. There were a lot of results. Hope gave me a positive and a negative. I found Celeste Peterson. Now which one was she? Or, was she even among the listed? There were about 30 of them, and I was able to eliminate close to half of them right away because they were younger than me. At least there was that much.
I guess I wasn't really sure what I was looking for. I tapped on the names and perused the information given for each individual and their family tree. There was nothing that stood out. That doesn't mean these women were out of the question.
I spent most of that night going through the names that fit the time frame. I only got through a few before I got frustrated and stopped. Part of me was scared to continue. I retrieved my portable charger from the office, returned to my locker, and plugged my phone in. It was time to call it a day. I sat on the closed lid of my casket and put my head in my hands.
That black plastic rectangle sat on the floor between my feet, staring up at me and mocking me. I could see it and fixated on it as I sat there. The knowledge that the page with all those names was still open on my phone taunted me. All I did was turn the screen off.
What was the point? Odds are I would never know which one, if any, was her. Even if by some miracle I did, what would that prove? What would it change? She was probably dead. I would most likely never get the answers I so badly wanted.
This sure seemed to be the crux of it. I was doing all of this to find information, but how much would I really find? Probably nothing. This could be a big waste of time. Everything I seemed to do lately was a waste of time. It would be nice to spend eternity being useful for a change. But no dice.
Eventually, I gave up. I turned my light off and climbed into my casket, closed it and waited. Dawn was only a few hours away anyway. I just laid there and enjoyed the dark and relative silence until death stole me away. I laid in my artificial grave for three days.
On the fourth day, I had to rise. I was thirsty. First, I grabbed the hand mirror out of my pocket. I made a promise to Cassie. Opening the small plastic mirror, I looked at my own reflection and repeated the words, "It's not your fault" until they lost all meaning. The bad feelings snuck up on me in those three days, just like Cassie predicted.
Then, I changed clothes and headed out for a hunt. Afterwards, I ran into Cassie. "I haven't seen you in a few days." she announced. "What's up?"
"I kinda shut down for a few days." I sighed.
"Is everything okay?"
"Fine. I had to use the mirror."
"How do you feel now?"
"Not great, but better."
We walked in silence for a while, her expression unreadable. Finally, Cassie spoke up again. "Have you had any luck finding your mother online?"
Even though I knew she would ask, I was still caught off guard. The weight of that little plastic phone in my pocket suddenly seemed enormous. "You never closed your browser window." it seemed to whisper in a taunt. "Turn me on and you'll be right back where you left off."
I grew to hate that little cellular telephone in my pocket. If it weren't so goddamn useful, I would get rid of it. "Well?" Cassie probed.
"I'm not sure how to answer." I replied. "I found a lot of women named Celeste Peterson, and eliminated some due to age. I haven't gotten through the rest and those I have seen who would fit, I'm not sure of."
"There must be something!" she insisted. "Have you tried looking up your own name?"
"Yeah, but I'm not in there at all. This was all a big farce."
Heaving a giant sigh, I turned to Cassie and said, "I guess I'll never know who my mom is."
"You said it yourself that you didn't finish. You HAVE to finish the list."
"I'm scared."
"Give me your phone. I'll do it for you."
She held out her hand, and for some reason, I obeyed. I dug into my pocket and handed her my phone. "The page should still be up." I stated.
Grabbing the phone, Cassie hit the power button and swiped the screen to unlock it. The genealogy screen was indeed still up. She spent a few minutes tapping and scrolling. I'm not sure exactly what she read. Finally, she tapped one more time and gasped loudly. "What?" I asked, curious as hell.
"I... I found her." Cassie stammered, shocked. "I found your mother."
"No way!" I responded in disbelief.
Cassie held the phone out so I could see the screen. "Take a look at this picture and tell me that's not her."
What I saw made my hot blood turn to ice. On that small screen was a black and white photo of a young woman labeled as Celeste Peterson. She looked almost exactly like me. Blonde hair, light eyes, nearly identical face. There was no way around it.
I grabbed the phone from Cassie as my mouth fell open. There was this beautiful blonde woman wearing a simple dress and beaming a bright smile at the camera. Then, I looked below the picture. January 10th, 1919 to September 19th, 1961. Celeste Peterson died the year I became immortal. "Looks like she was only 17 when she had you." Cassie interrupted my thoughts again. "Maybe age is why she gave you up."
"Maybe." I breathed, still in disbelief.
Staggering, I steadied myself on a nearby sign post. I couldn't peel my eyes away from the phone screen, and kept tapping it to keep it from going to sleep. Eventually, I decided to view her family tree. It did not show any children from her, which I expected. People didn't generally talk about children they gave away in those days. I did see she had some siblings, and they have children. "I have cousins." I managed.
"You do?" Cassie questioned.
"Yeah." I turned the phone so she could see it. "Maybe one of them knows about Celeste and can tell me about her."
"It's worth a shot. Can you contact them?"
"I'm not sure. I'll look later. For now, I want to savor this moment."
"You should!" she encouraged.
I smiled brightly at her. Just as I was about to put my phone back in my pocket, I got an email. It was a reminder email from my calendar. "Moonbeam's birthday" it said. I checked the date and time on my phone, and sure enough, it was midnight on December 20th.
Last year when this happened, it brought me down pretty bad. Although I forgot to delete this reminder, it didn't bring me down like last year. It brought me down some, I guess, but I wasn't angry at the reminder of her. What was I? Indifferent? Surely that was in improvement. Either way, nothing could bring me down for long tonight.