Growing up, I always thought the bracelets my librarian dad and I made were just a fun pastime. It wasn’t until I mentioned them at a family reunion years later, long after his death, that I discovered those seemingly ordinary trinkets held a hidden legacy that would save my family. Hi, I’m Jade, a 36-year-old nurse living in Oakhaven, Arkansas. The past year has been the hardest for my family. The economic state of the world hit us hard, and our bills were multiplying while our income stagnated. I had long hours at the local hospital, but it felt like we were barely keeping our heads above water.
My husband, Ethan, is a builder, but the construction industry hasn’t been doing well. He was forced to take on odd jobs just to make ends meet. I know everyone is having a hard time, and I shouldn’t complain, but it has been exhausting. A constant knot of worry would often make me nauseous and threaten to drive me mad. What’s more, I’ve even had to put off paying for necessities until we got late notices. My only solace was that our girls, Sandra and Gwen, were still young and oblivious to our struggle. One night, while Ethan and I sat at the kitchen table overlooking all our late payment notices, they were too busy building a pillow fort in the living room. We had to keep going for them.
During these hard times, I often thought back to my childhood. It was a simpler time with laughter and carefree days in our cozy, book-filled house. I remember spending hours with my dad in his study, surrounded by towering bookshelves and the comforting scent of old paper.
As a librarian, my dad was always buried in words, but every weekend when I was young, we made bracelets together. It was our thing until I moved away for college. It was our little secret, too, and I’d hoped he would have a chance to do it with our girls, but he passed away from cancer before he could even meet them. The sharp ring of the phone interrupted my nostalgic thoughts. It was my mom, calling to remind me about the upcoming family gathering to commemorate the tenth anniversary of Dad’s death. I hesitated for a moment, as I truly wasn’t sure if I wanted to go spend time with family. What would I tell everyone? That we were fine? We weren’t. Still, I knew I couldn’t miss it.
A few days later, Ethan and I organized ourselves, booked some time off, and packed up the car to head to my childhood home in Edmond, Oklahoma. My mom, Eleanor, a retired English teacher, greeted us with a huge hug. When we walked inside, I saw that my brothers were already there in the living room. Travis, the oldest, was a successful businessman and has been seemingly unaffected by the economic downturn. As soon as everyone got situated, and we started chatting, he started to boast about his latest investments and lavish vacations. “Just closed a deal on a new condo in Maui,” he announced, flashing a smug grin. “I’m thinking of renting it out, maybe make a little extra cash.”