In March of 2020 my favorite earring broke. The world and everything around me had just shut down. As frivolous as it may sound, given all that was going on, it felt like a metaphoric last straw of sorts. The notion of working from home full time, homeschooling three boys, the loss of loved ones and friends and bans on plane trips to far off lands wasn't what broke the harsh reality to me. It was that single broken earring. Life would forever feel and be different than it had ever been and that damn earring knew it.
There it was disconnected in my hand, a broken lady, telling me that next week's plans were no more and reminding me of all the watercolor talks I wouldn't be having and taunting me with all the maskless nights our with friends I had squandered. I suddenly became obsessed with fixing it. As if somehow making it whole again would fix the world and me along with it. I couldn't go to a repair shop or a bead store, everything was shut until further notice. I couldn't order a new one, it had been handmade and by whom I didn't know, it had been too long since I bought it.
With the connection to my sanity nearly as severed as the two pieces of earrings in my hand, I began to Google. First, what parts make up earrings? Then, the parts themselves with names like findings and jump rings and connector bars. It turned out you had to order supplies in bulk. But I was determined to fix it. So I did. But I didn't realize I'd ordered them from China. It would take months. So I found a US based supplier and ordered them again. Two sets of bulk, for one single lady.
When the supplies arrived I realized I needed special tools. Regular pliers were too big for tiny fingers handling even tinier connectors. So I ordered tools too. The original order from China came one month early. My desk became strewn with little metal pieces and tools, waiting for me to create. I stared at the earring for a long time. What was I thinking? I'd never made an earring or worked with metal in my life. But I fixed that earring and as I did, new ideas popped into my head, Silhouettes of different shapes and lengths drawn from the memories of places I had been. Images that my hands couldn't dream of drawing but could arrange and fuse. I ordered more supplies and made even more. Each time I sourced I got better and faster. It became my nighttime ritual after the kids were in bed. Netflix. Etsy. Make. Replacing old habits of packing and unpacking for long trips.
I learned about metals, their weight, their density, and hardness. I was bursting with styles, too many for me to wear in a lifetime, so I started gifting. First to family, then friends and coworkers, then to strangers. People started asking me if they could buy them. "No. I was not selling, I'd say, I don't really know how to make jewelry. I don't have time. I have a job."
But here I am. A broken lady myself, making my way through a pandemic by building something new.
