My grandfather made me a tiara once. It had originally been a towering affair handed down from another girl’s past, four to five inches high, a pyramid of cheap rhinestone circles and absolutely ridiculous looking on my tiny head. So I asked him to fix it for me. He snipped and rewired and glued it with love, and the end result was perfection to the little princess living in my head. Not too high, yet not so small that it couldn’t clearly be identified for what it was. Some of the circles that had been discarded had been cut up and pieces used to add little complementary elements to the new base, giving it more interest. I suppose I should mention that I was a senior in high school at the time. The tiara was for my installation as Honored Queen of a girl’s masonic club for the next six months. I wore it with pride and then packed it away in my box of keepsakes after my term was over. It came with me over the years as I moved around the country and I would occasionally take it out and smile, even though a piece had broken off at some point and I never wore it again.

Today is laundry day and, as I found myself thinking of that tiara, I decided to dig it out and wear it around the house. Except that the laundry is now done and I haven’t found it yet. There is still hope, however, because my search turned up another piece of my past that I had thought lost forever. Behold, my beloved pink elephant tea set! Now, if only I had some tiny cookies.