Rings, or the lack of a ring, symbolize the different stages of a woman's life
It was the end of a long, frustrating day. My fiance and I had trooped in and out of several jewelry stores looking at uninspired traditional wedding sets. On our way to the car, I saw it in the window of a small, unassuming store, the perfect wedding ring for me. It was two-tone with a large open basket weave design, a classy statement piece that was meant to stand on its own without a boring diamond to detract from it.
As the wedding date grew nearer, I began to second-guess myself. A lifetime with him seemed more like a sentence than a promise. But it was ‘too late’ - everything was arranged and paid for - others had put a lot of thought, money, and time into making it a perfect day. I convinced myself I just had the proverbial cold feet and went through with the wedding.
The ring felt uncomfortable. My sister-in-law said in a few weeks, I would get used to it and not even realize it was there. She was right - I became oblivious to the ring, and it became a part of me, a part devoid of emotion but a part nonetheless.
Several years later, the ring once again began to feel uncomfortable. I started taking it off and leaving it on my desk at work. When I took it off to paint or garden, I would leave it on my dresser for a few days. I began to take it off more and more for even the slightest excuse but always eventually put it back on. Until one day, I didn’t.
Feeling that part of my life was completely over, I did what most women do - I got a new haircut on my way to sell my ring. When the jeweler offered me 20, I told him I’d rather throw it in the ocean or flush it down the toilet.
I wanted to cover the pale strip on my finger - proof that I had ever worn the ring. A friend convinced me to leave it alone and watch it gradually fade.
There were some joyous occasions like the first time I felt my bare hand on the escalator’s rails. There were also some very depressing days as I realized the enormity of my losses - I once said my ex was the least important loss. When I would get down, I would gaze at my naked finger - it became the symbol of hope - of the rightness of my decision to give both of us a chance to find happiness. I swore I would never wear another ring on my left hand.
As I adapted to my new life, I became oblivious to the lack of a ring. It became a part of me, this time a happier one but one that was still searching. Then one day, a ring from an estate sale called to me. I knew enough about jewelry to realize estate sale simply meant used and the stone was inexpensive as blue goldstone is actually processed glass There was nothing special about it - It was quite simply a used piece of jewelry. But I loved the gold speckles on the royal-blue stone that fit perfectly into the setting. On impulse, I tried it on. It fit comfortably on my left hand - a new statement piece that said I had finally found myself and was happy with my lot in life.
