~and it meant everything to me~

I've taken to wearing my birthstone ring once again.  It was a gift that my parents gave me back in 1969 on the occasion of my 8th grade graduation.  I recall my mom paid $10 for it, an astronomical amount of money in the times of 47 years ago.  Not sure how they did it, but if I know my mom she probably saved back her pennies for months and then ended up doing without something for herself.

She was like that in all matters.

It was a beautiful gift to receive and really the first piece of nice jewelry that I ever owned and happily, still own today.  It's been through "the mill", just like me.  I wore it all the time when I was growing up and it went where I did.  Once when I was climbing down off the back of my dad's wheat truck on a hot summer day, I caught it on the side of the truck bed. That was a painful moment in time and if you have ever done something like that, you will understand exactly what I am saying. Fortunately for me, it only bent the back side of the ring.  I could have needed to figure out a way in the years ahead to type minus my ring finger.  It happens you know.  When I was a senior in high school, I wore it one early autumn day to do a community service project with the rest of the Kayette group back home at Haven High School.  Our goal was to paint all of the picnic tables in the city park a brand new forest green color.  I wasn't a very neat painter that Saturday and ended up getting paint on my birthstone.  It took a long time for that deep green color to go away.

The bent portion of the ring was straightened at the local jewelry store and given enough time, the paint actually wore off in the years to come.  For several years, I tucked the ring away in my jewelry box and didn't wear it at all.  Lately I have taken it out and placed it back on my right hand ring finger.  I'm thankful that my fingers have basically stayed the same size 5 and I am able to slip it on with ease.

By today's standards that ring isn't worth much.  The gold band is thinning a bit in the back but the stone remains set tightly and I have no fear of losing it. That gift from my parents from now so very long ago is plain and simple, kind of like me.  But to still own it means the world to me.  To look down upon it and know that they both chose that particular ring for me to own, makes me very happy and at peace.  I believe they would like that.

The older I have gotten, the more I find solace in the smallest of things.  A gift from my parents, wrapped up in a tiny black felt jewelry box, is one of them.

 That young girl didn't have a clue as to the interesting life she would have ahead of her in the future.

It was only a ring but it meant everything to me then and still does today.