As soon as I walked into the room, I felt an electric tension in the air. A sense of discomfort mixed with fascination, intrigue, and fear. The moment was too awkward for me to even consider joining the conversation on what had just begun to take place. Everyone else seemed comfortable with each other and it made me feel a bit left out; so much so that I began to think about moving on as quickly as possible.
I was drawn back in by my friend's voice breaking through my thoughts:
"I'm sorry, can you tell us where you got this piece of jewelry?"
It dropped like a bomb at their feet and they all started scrambling to pick it up before any damage could be done. "Oh...thank you for the care and attention you gave it."
I turned around and smiled, trying to make up for my initial unease. I walked over and picked it up, inspecting it from all angles. "This is such a beautiful piece of work! I really like it."
"Thank you. It's very nice to meet you."
"You too."
We parted ways after exchanging pleasantries, but as soon as we got a few feet away from each other, we passed each other by again. We stopped speaking at the same time but smiled at each other before turning back around.
I felt a spark that I haven't felt in a long time. I thought it was time to leave. As soon as we got out of the room, my friend turned to me and said, "That piece of jewelry was worth an hour's conversation, at least!"
Yes, he was right. It took something as simple as a ring to get someone to open up and speak about themselves for a good hour or more. We got so much out of one simple question and I would like to share it with everyone else:
During the spring time, when cherry blossoms were blooming all around us, he went in full force into gathering cherry blossom petals in order to make jewelry. He initially wanted to put it in a frame, but I suggested to him that a ring would be much better.
I remember him telling me that he understood why someone would put their engagement ring on the frame. However, he wanted me to wear it all the time; not just when walking down the aisle.
It was such a long time ago and this small event had already become insignificant in my mind, but at that moment I remembered how special it was for me:
A token of love from my husband.
The day he gave me his best and most valuable possession...his heart...and his promise of forever with me.
I never remove it from my finger as we're both afraid that something might happen to it...
I looked at it and thought: "It's not just a token of my husband's love, but a token of all the other men that I've loved throughout the years."
The ring has always been a symbol of love to me. The most expensive and authentic one that I now have is worth no more than 3.5 cents in my eyes.
I'm unable to sleep at night because of the weight that my sweet little pinky ring bears on it, and that makes me feel sadder than you could imagine...but I have him to thank for that.
I would like to share this story with everyone else out there so they know how much their rings mean...to me...
The ring is a symbol of love, commitment and eternity, but it is also a symbol of 'passing time.' It makes me feel the same way I did when my grandfather gave me the ring that he had been wearing for more than 60 years on his birthday. He passed away later on that year...
It makes me feel the same way I did when my father gave me his wedding band for 'our' first wedding anniversary. I still wear it till this day...
It makes me feel the same way my best friend felt when her husband placed the two simple rings on her finger during their simple wedding ceremony.
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