On my seventeenth birthday, I woke up in the morning to get ready for school, and my parents came into my room with a card and a ring box. They didn't have a lot of money when I was a teenager, so I didn't really expect much even though I always wished for more than the moon. I remember my mom's nervous anticipation for me to open the box and see their gift (I've inherited that quality from her of loving to give gifts almost more than receiving them). They were standing in the doorway as I opened the box and glimpsed the purple sparkling awesomeness. I put it on right away, and, of course, it was a perfect fit. It has been one of my most prized possession since that day.
I like to wear jewelry. Genuine or costume, jewelry makes a statement. For this reason I don't wear the same thing more than once a month or much longer, except for my favorites. When I get in the mood to wear one of my favorites, I might wear that one thing every day for a week or two without taking it off but to shower. There are a few gold pendants that have my initial that come into favor from time to time, plus some gold hoop earrings, and then, there is my silver and amethyst purple sparkling awesomeness that my parents gave me for my birthday that I revisit for a few weeks in a row once or twice a year.
I tend to get into the mood to wear the amethyst ring when I miss my parents the most, and that time has arrived over this past month. When stress is high, I catch myself wishing them here again for a hug or words of encouragement. But it is impossible. So, I reach for a physical reminder that I can touch. I put that ring back on three weeks ago.
Wearing this special ring breaks my heart as much as it comforts it. I miss my mom and dad so much. So when I lost my ring last week, I was nearly inconsolable. Telling myself that it is just a thing and pushing the thought of it out of my mind were all I could do to avoid crying over it. The car was searched a few times, and I thought to call the store I visited to see if someone found it in the parking lot, but I just couldn't face the fact that it might be missing forever.
However, after several days of coming to terms with the idea that it was truly lost, my brother, as he bent down to pick up the newspaper off the driveway, found it just laying there on the ground! I totally yelled out in jubilation and grabbed him for a hug and skipped about. Yes, I skipped about. There's no better way to describe it. I skipped about on the driveway, up the stairs onto the porch, and into the house. Then, what did I do? I skipped about a little more.
All my hope and happiness does not hang on a piece of jewelry, but I felt a little extra heartbroken the past few days thinking that the ring was never to be seen again. I am so grateful it is no longer lost but found.