Kate’s mother lives far enough away that they don’t see each other very often. She is so very thoughtful, though, sending holly sprigs at Christmas, and finding beautiful, simple gifts that make Kate think of her and remember her often. This I know because I have the letters, the cards of thanks, of connection; I have the journal entries that mention Kate’s mother, a quiet, distant support in all that she does.
I like to imagine that this came from her mother, and that she wears it on the lapel of a dark wool jacket when the weather turns cold. The wire that forms the loopy script is sort of squared off. Its edges aren’t smooth round surface, but its cross section forms a smooth wire with gentle ridges, almost spiral in nature.
I like to imagine Kate fingering the wire ridges, running her fingers over the scallops on the bumpy pearly edge, of the pin, and thinking of her mother. I like to imagine.