I’ve been really in a writing slump lately. My life has been work -> dinner -> gym -> tv -> bed for the last couple of months. I have been writing diligently in my fitness blog at sparkpeople, but really, I doubt you want to read about my love affair with my strength training program or how I magically transcend in to an outside layer of Hell when I’m on the elliptical for more than a half hour.
And originally, this post was supposed to be about Valentine’s Day. I had a great one, thanks for asking. It was just what I wanted- informal but special at a new restaurant (and I didn’t pay!). We did tapas- yummy, seafood-filled, mousse covered tapas.
As I was getting ready for a special night out with boyfriend, I decided it was time to put away my tired old rings and grab a rarely worn sparkler.
My two older rings consist of a claddagh ring I’ve had since my freshman year of high school. I’m not Irish- not even close. But it was trendy to wear one as a sign of your relationship status. My other ring is my parent’s engagement ring. I’m not sure I wear it, or why I wear it every day. That’s something you could psychoanalyze for me in the comment section.
As I was rummaging through my old jewelry box, I came across something I didn’t recognize immediately. It was a pretty silver band with four or five aquamarine stones. Nothing significant or stunning, and to be quite honest, it didn’t even match my dress.
But after a few moments of wearing it, the significance of what I was trying on hit me. This piece of jewelry was given to me as a promise ring almost 3 years ago. It was a ring I never, ever took off… until the very end.
The last day I wore it was the night of my sister’s wedding. I still remember the long drive home in which, being in tears, I flung it into a dusty cup holder where it sat forgotten for about a month. Fragments of food, dirt, and drops of soda covered it as I spent my summer in a complete state of disarray- moving from one place to the next, one “relationship” to another.
When I sold my car to my cousin months later, I found it underneath a stale mountain dew. It certainly had seen its share of hot days in the sun and many bottoms of various canisters. (editor’s note: metaphor much?). I remember bringing it in to my new apartment, washing it off, and then calling the giver for one of the last times.
For over a year, it sat in the back of a jewelry box, never getting a second glance. And when it finally had its moment of consideration, it did nothing but bring up cold, dead moments from a relationship not meant to be. Without a second thought, it went back to where it came from- back to the bottom of a filled up ring drawer of a wooden jewelry box.
What does one do with a ring like that? It’s value is pretty low, nothing worth the hassle of selling. I know my mom would suggest taking the blue stones out and making it in to another piece of jewelry, but I dont have the money or effort for that.
And to be quite honest, I dont have the heart to just throw it out. This ring is symbolic of my first love and real relationship. It represents 4 years of college. 4 years of fights, plans, trips, kisses, apartments/dorms, bedrooms, and couches. And while it was given to me with the intention that those 4 years would be everlasting, it just wasn’t. It was a stereotypical college romance that came to end as poetically as a rhyme scheme.
Anyone want a ring?