Day 21 of 35

I have tried since morning to find the words for the winged scarab pendant my mother fastened around my neck when I was small enough to need her to fasten such things. A scarab. A symbol for the sun being rolled across the sky. A symbol etched on tombs. A symbol for re-birth–an amulet for the living and the dead. Why so soon would I need this metaphor resting in silver on the thin flesh above my heart?

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