I panicked, lifting up my top in the middle of the street, thinking it had dropped into my bra. Tears were running down my face as I saw people looking at me, wondering what was going on.
Mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was 18 months old. They gave her five years to live. For the years she had left, she made beautiful memories with me.
She'd written cards for me to be delivered on each birthday until I turned 21. There was a memory box for me too, with a special message from her.
Without my knowing, she'd curated a jewelry box for me to be given to me by my dad when I was 18. The locket was among the jewelry.
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