P is for Pearl

Today my son found a wood lid stuck behind the dresser.

It has fancy scrolled letter P on it.

I was missing that lid for a really long time. I really wanted that lid back!

This old varnished cracked lid with a "P" on it is my jewelry box lid. I am guessing that my jewelry box is about 30 years old.

My mother gave me this wood jewelry box to me when I was 12 years old. It used to be her Aunt Pearl's. I didn't really know Aunt Pearl. She was my great Grandpa Busby's companion. I remember the cool 70's beads in their kitchen. That's all I remember about Pearl and Grandpa Busby.

But getting that jewelry box was the coolest thing ever. I used to share a small bedroom with 4 other kids. A brother in the crib. A sister in a mattress pulled out from under the crib. A sister on the bottom bunk. And me on the top bunk with my "secret stuff" stashed under the mattress. Lots and lots of "babyish" stuff and Barbies in my room, ugh!

I didn't have any the latest teen stuff at the time. Just a few Kirk Cameron posters on the wall, and my very non-babyish jewelry box with the letter P on my dresser.

Yep, I was real proud of my jewelry box with a letter P. I polished it once a month with my Mom's lemon polish.

I smacked my siblings hands if they dared touched my jewelry box.

A year later I was looking at the letter P thinking that it was too bad that it was not a letter M.

A year later I was really wishing I had a reason to have a letter P! No cool nicknames for me that started with a letter P. And "pumpkin" from my Dad as a little girl does not count.

A year after that I thought to myself, "I really really want my last name to start with a letter P."

A year after that I thought to myself, "I am pretty sure that I will have the last name with a letter P"

A year after that, I went to Lake Powell for the first time. And I LOVED it. I loved that name of the lake so much. Lake Powell sounds so cool. It IS so cool and beautiful.

Almost 3 years later I was standing by a large bonfire introducing myself in sign language as a one of the counselors at a summer camp for deaf kids. "Hello, my name H-E-A-T-H-E-R M-C-N-E-I-L"

Soon afterwards there was a hand towards my right shoulder. I could only see the hand. I thought it was a very nice looking hand. And I saw the name being spelled "R-Y-A-N P-O-W-E-L-L"

Well two weeks later, and the rest is history.

Now I have a good reason to have an old varnished cracked wood lid with a fancy scrolled letter P on it.

And I am still proud of it.

I smack my kids hands if they dare to touch it.

And to this day I still introduce myself as "My name is Heather Powell, Powell as in Lake Powell"

(otherwise they write my last name down as Powers)

PS My husband is quite possibly related to John Powell, founder of Lake Powell.

Thanks son for finding my  jewelry box lid!

And P is now for Powell. (Sorry Aunt Pearl!)