“Write about a piece of jewelry you own. Where did it come from? When do you wear it?”
This one isn’t too tough, but only because I have never really owned that much jewelry. Growing up in a strictly religious home helped me in that regard, as both my mother and my sister had minimal jewelry (if any at all). It was all about the “temple of God,” or what you had on the inside, that was supposed to really count. Which was why it was funny that, despite this directive, we were decked out to the 9’s every Saturday at church service. Quite funny.
Anyway, as I’ve gotten older I’ve felt the need for a little outward adornment. At various points in my life I’ve had a couple necklaces (I guess guys should call them “chains,” but they really weren’t), a couple bracelets (one of them was a faux Livestrong one that left a green ring around my wrist), and a few rings, for good measure. While the necklaces, and the bracelets, are pretty much long gone, festooned on the island of my history, I do still have two rings.
Sorry, Golem, not just one precious.
But yes, really, only the latest ring is precious to me. It came from the ring store where we originally purchased our wedding bands, but it was nearly 15 years after those original rings. It is the 5th wedding ring I’ve owned, and I’m hoping this time it’s the charm, because, frankly, I’m tired of purchasing wedding rings.
The story, yes. So, I wanted to surprise my wife with a special present for our fifteenth wedding anniversary. The traditional gift is crystal, but to be honest, I knew getting crystal was a recipe for disaster, as we are both rather clumsy when it comes to breakable things. Besides, I wanted to get her something different, something she would never figure out ahead of time. After coming up empty with several attempts, I had a brilliant idea.
I would get myself a new ring.
I know what you’re thinking. How is getting myself something a gift for her? Well, I figured it was our anniversary, and it could be a gift both of us could appreciate. I had a plain band I had been wearing for a few years, but it was nothing like the twin rings we had purchased together prior to our wedding. I wanted to get a ring to match hers, with one subtle difference. While our original rings are both rose gold and white gold, I wanted one that was only rose gold.
Finding it was easier said than done. The company that originally produced our rings had stopped making that particular design some 4 years prior to my research, and no other company made one appreciable to it. I was stumped, flummoxed, depressed after finally figuring it all out. So, I went to our original jeweler and expressed my desire to the lady behind the desk. She put her considerable energies to the task, and two weeks later we had a solution.
In the end, she found a company that would create a similar ring for me, but the time it would take to create such a ring would cut it pretty close to our anniversary. She promised me, though, that I would have it in time. I crossed my fingers and held my breath (not too long, though). Luckily she was right, she kept her promise, and the ring came. I had to hold my breath again, though, because if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I would have no time to send it back and get another made. Again, I was in luck, as it was what I had requested.
On our anniversary my wife was surprised. She didn’t have the faintest clue after all my hints leading up to it. I put it on that morning, and even then she didn’t recognize how it was a different ring. It took until after dinner, when we were talking, for her to see that something wasn’t quite the same. I laughed, and showed her my ring finger with the brilliant new ring on it.
Of course, she said I didn’t have to go and do that, that the ring I had been wearing was suitable enough, but I could see how pleased she was that it had even occurred to me, that I had gone through so much just to get a replacement that would hold more value simply in its design. So, sure, outward adornment might not be a prized commodity for God, but it is for me, especially when it’s symbolic adornment.
Oh, and I wear it always.