Lacey, Oh Lacey
Jorden Demerritte
Tucked away neatly in an inconspicuous tin round box that is painted white and lined with delicate lace and floral appliques are slivers of lace trims cut haphazardly. The box originally belonged to Ms. Arlice, the coordinator of an afterschool program I attended throughout elementary school. Similar to the edges of the lace with stalks of thread ends fraying about, our relationship has worn the multitude of years that have passed by with a lightness of heart and spirit. I still remember her heavily perfumed office room that smelled of lavender and the gray cloud of tight curls atop her head. She would look at me dearly and coo at me whenever I came into her room. She would parse my face to determine how I felt and with a gentle change her posture and choice of words given what she picked up on. All the while in her chair, she looked so small and tiny, yet she’d lift up and tower over me, at 5’ 11”, swaying in the wind like a tree.
Photograph of the round lace tin gifted by Ms. Arlice. | Image source: Jorden Demerritte
Her presence was like the saline breeze licking off of the ocean waves–soothing and all-encompassing.
Given my mother’s camaraderie with her, I came to acquire this tin round box. She was moving away and in the giving spirit that is infused within her, she thought of passing down her craft supplies to me. Knowing about the creativity embedded within me since my youth, she relinquished her treasured tin box.
The first time I encountered the tender appliques lace was 2 years ago after graduating from high school. Ms. Arlice sent a handmade card and envelope with pieces of swirling thin fabrics glued atop. I was deeply touched by her craftsmanship and the time that went into creating this envelope stuffed with a heartfelt note.
Threaded, lace portrait. Image source: Ying Chew, 2009
The gift was a reminder that friendship transverses time and space. You hold the imagery of people dearly to your heart–etching over memories, until pieces of the memory become worn with deep-seeded content. For me, this tiny tin relic with the bundles of a pearl memory latched inside wields a personal interpretation.
Taken within the Isabella Gardner Museum at Boston, Massachusetts. Image source: Jorden Demerritte
When I see lace now, whether encased behind glass at the Isabella Gardner’s Museum in Boston or on a shirt tucked away in my closet, it is a reminder of the invisible thread tying me to the people I love.
Strike Out,
Jorden Demerritte
Editor: Carla Mendez
Jorden Demerritte is a second-year at Miami Dade College pursuing an Associate of Arts in Architecture. Her experience of writing includes being Cartoonist and Staff Writer of The Beacon, a high school newspaper. She has experience interviewing individuals across the world, including Emily Damstra, an American-Canadian coin designer, and Stephen Heard, a Canadian author and biology professor. Her interest in writing lies in connecting with people and learning about the world around her. In fleeting flits of free time, Jorden enjoys online thrifting, tending to her backyard vegetable and flower garden, and reading.
