I have a necklace that reminds me of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where I lived for two years and two months. The pendant is a piece of sea glass that I found one day among the rocks on the beach and saved in case one day I could have it made into a necklace. It sat inside the cupholder of my car for months, waiting.

It's pale sea green and roughly one inch long and three-quarters of an inch wide. It's an irregular rectangular shape and has a raised pattern that looks vaguely like the top of an anchor but is probably part of some writing. It's pretty, that's what made me save it.

One day I went downtown to see my friend Ford. When I found him, he was sitting talking to an old Deadhead who called himself Smoke. Smoke had a big bushy grey beard and a Buddha belly that was covered by a tie-dyed Grateful Dead t-shirt. He was sitting cross-legged on the pavement twisting silver wire with a pair of pliers around a pretty stone. Spread in front of him was a black velvet case showcasing his wares: every variety of coloured stone, polished smooth into beauty and wrapped around with silver wire.

I asked Smoke if he could wrap sea glass, and he said that he could. He said that he'd charge me $5. So I walked back to my car again, fetched the piece of glass, and took it to Smoke. He pulled out a length of silver wire, and a few minutes of careful twisting later, handed me my piece of sea glass, ingeniously but minimally wrapped, with a loop at the top for a chain. He then cut a length of black cord, threaded it on, tied a knot, and it was a necklace. Ten dollars, he said.

I hesitated, because he'd told me five. But I handed him ten, even though I was angry about it and complained to Ford later. However, I had to admit the result was pleasing. The thin silver wire cradles the ocean-smoothed glass, twisting to hold itself in place and spiraling up to the loop that holds the cord. When I wear it, it reminds me of the ocean. When I wear it, it reminds me of Portsmouth. When I wear it, it reminds me of countless sunsets viewed over the beautiful Piscataqua River from Peirce Island or Memorial Bridge. When I wear it, it reminds me of a time in my life that was bitter-sweet. When I wear it, it reminds me of a chunk of my past.

And it's beautiful.