I received plastic earrings from my mother-in-law. My sister-in-law received a diamond necklace in the interim. Unsure of how to respond, I just forced an odd smile on my face. My spouse lost himself as soon as he spotted the plastic earrings. “Mom, how dare you?”
Attempting to soothe my spouse, I found myself experiencing a range of feelings. My mother-in-law’s motives were evident, and the difference in presence was striking. What caught me off guard, though, was the following twist in the story.
Those plastic earrings proved to be more than just a cheapskate present. With her usual flair for the dramatic, my mother-in-law had organized this as a strange kind of experiment. She eventually admitted that the earrings held a key—a little, finely crafted key that was part of a long-standing family heirloom. Every daughter-in-law was supposed to receive an insignificant object that contained a secret key. This key opened a little chest that held a very sentimental item for the family.
It found out that the chest was located in an ancient, unoccupied chamber in my mother-in-law’s home’s basement. There she led the way, her proud and mischievous smile lighting up her face. The room was full of antiques and vintage family photos and was somewhat dusty. There was a little, elaborate chest in the center. After I took out the key from the earrings, the chest opened with a click. There was an antique gold jewelry set and an old diary within.
The great-grandmother of my spouse owned the diary. It contained her dreams, her feelings, and a thorough narrative of her journey to this nation as an immigrant. Her sole valuable item that she carried from her native country was jewelry. This was a family artifact that had been passed down through the years, according to my mother-in-law, and I was now allowed to keep and pass it on.
Everything changed after this realization. Though incorrect, I came to see that my mother-in-law’s acts were motivated by a strong sense of tradition and a love for her family’s past. The trust and accountability of maintaining the family tradition was the true gift, not the plastic earrings or even the gold jewelry.
In the meantime, my sister-in-law’s diamond necklace proved to be a cunning diversion, a means of holding onto the true tradition until the appropriate time. My sister-in-law was fairly kind about it, given the circumstances. We all laughed together at how strange and complicated the whole thing was.
I became closer to my husband’s family as a result of the occurrence. I started to perceive my mother-in-law as a protector of a rich family history rather than the cold, materialistic person I had previously believed her to be. I read the diary for hours on end, discovering more about my husband’s family history and experiencing a closeness I had never experienced before.
I discovered that day that sometimes the most priceless presents come in the most humble packages and that appearances may be deceiving. It was a lesson in humility, honoring the past, and realizing that customs can occasionally have their peculiar ways of uniting families.