My pearl ring has survived for twenty-five years, through a natural disaster, years of games of little kids dress-up, and restoration. The ring is a silver band on the top there are two pearls situated diagonally from each other. Two diamond hearts sit next to the two pearls forming an alternating square of pearl, diamond, pearl, diamond. The silver band that the jewels perch on is worn from years of abuse and a great need for cleaning. The pearls themselves show signs of age and one is whiter than its twin. The place where the diamonds are set has traces of residue from being left on while the wearer was washing, working with, or putting lotion on their hands. In appearance the ring itself is not that fabulous, but the history of it is what makes the ring important.
Twenty-five years ago, the pearl ring was given to my Mother by my Dad. Three years after my Mom was given the pearl, it was replaced by a diamond wedding band and put in a jewelry box. Not too long after they were too busy chasing kids to even care about frivolous things like rings. Then one day something terrible happened, the house that we lived in was hit by a tornado. The house was completely destroyed along with most of our things. Neighbors came from everywhere to help pick up the debris, and somewhere in the midst of all of the rubble, one of the neighbors found the pearl ring. It was missing the pearls but everything else was in tact. When our new house was built, the ring went into the play room where I frequently used it during my hours and hours of dress-up games.
When my days of dress-up were over, the ring went back to my Mother’s jewelry box, and I forgot about it for a long time. Until one Christmas, there was a small box under the tree with my name on it. On Christmas Eve, when we opened presents, the small box was the last one that I opened. As I unwrapped a jewelry box I was somewhat confused why they had gotten me a ring. But when I took out the ring the days of dress-up came rushing back in my mind. The pearls had been replaced and the ring was shiny after its cleaning. I now have the ring that reminds me to always keep a little bit of the kid that I was with me at all times.
Twenty-five years ago, the pearl ring was given to my Mother by my Dad. Three years after my Mom was given the pearl, it was replaced by a diamond wedding band and put in a jewelry box. Not too long after they were too busy chasing kids to even care about frivolous things like rings. Then one day something terrible happened, the house that we lived in was hit by a tornado. The house was completely destroyed along with most of our things. Neighbors came from everywhere to help pick up the debris, and somewhere in the midst of all of the rubble, one of the neighbors found the pearl ring. It was missing the pearls but everything else was in tact. When our new house was built, the ring went into the play room where I frequently used it during my hours and hours of dress-up games.
When my days of dress-up were over, the ring went back to my Mother’s jewelry box, and I forgot about it for a long time. Until one Christmas, there was a small box under the tree with my name on it. On Christmas Eve, when we opened presents, the small box was the last one that I opened. As I unwrapped a jewelry box I was somewhat confused why they had gotten me a ring. But when I took out the ring the days of dress-up came rushing back in my mind. The pearls had been replaced and the ring was shiny after its cleaning. I now have the ring that reminds me to always keep a little bit of the kid that I was with me at all times.
1 comment:
Great article amazing information thanks for sharing..!
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