“I need to discuss something with you” my mother said in her very serious mom-voice. She had called that afternoon, and knowing how she always tries to brace me for bad news with a lead- in statement, I prepared myself for something dreadful. “I want to give you my charm bracelet.” “Oh, dear God. She’s dying,” I thought.

Next to her wedding rings, my mother has always loved her charm bracelet more than any other possession. A heavy piece of jewelry, she started collecting the gold charms when she was a freshman at Howard College, now Samford University, where my son is currently a student. The cherished bracelet is loaded with jingles and jangles from decades of happy memories and special events, and after assuring me she was in great health, my second completely human and natural competitive thought was, “If I’m getting the bracelet, then what are they giving my brother? Aww, who cares? I’m getting the charm bracelet!”

I think my parents have reached the point in their lives where it’s practical to clear out the unused things around the house. They’re tired of the excess and want to simplify and organize. They love to travel, and I think Mama is tired of hiding things like her charm bracelet in the bread box every time they leave town.

She explained, “I’ve just decided that I’ve worn it enough and I think you would enjoy it more, so I want to go ahead and give it to you now rather than later.” And you know, she’s right. I was jumping up and down excited to get the bracelet which features a little bride charm along with class rings that belonged to her and my father.

I remember sitting in church on Sunday nights (she was in the choir loft in the morning service) and playing ever so quietly with each charm. I’d examine the bridesmaid holding a bouquet, the bulldog pup, and the two children— one for me, one for my brother. I’d slowly turn the bracelet around her arm to examine the tiny engagement ring and the “Merry Christmas” tree on the other side.

Charm bracelets were all the rage in the 1950s and have remained popular in the South where belles have always had a passion for beautiful sparkly things. Charms have made a recent comeback in the fashion world and ladies around the country are creating new bracelets for themselves as well as hunting down older antique charms due to their detail and uniqueness.

The bracelet never fails to attract someone who comments on it, and then shares their own bracelet story. It’s a sorority of sorts, with a charming bond where we share details of our collections with our heads close together as if we were examining a golden scrapbook.

My mother was wise in knowing I would treasure her bobbling bijoux bangle and she has delighted in seeing tokens of her fondest memories dangle from my wrist. Not only do I know her bracelet, I know her stories.

Even though he’s a teenage boy, my own son sometimes reaches over in church and pokes his fingers around the charms. “I like the bulldog best” he whispers. Maybe the family bracelet will be the ultimate test to see if his future wife is worthy. (“Oh, I don’t like charm bracelets, they’re too noisy.” — she’s out. “Oh, I adore your bracelet!” — she’s a keeper.)

As for my brother, he was excited to be given a large set of tools, which was completely fine with me. There would be nothing charming at all about a wrench dangling from my dainty wrist, now would there? Oh, how our charming parents know us so well.

Leslie Anne Harrison is a contributing writer for Gulf Coast Media and can be reached at la@fairhopesupply.com