Bands of Gold

Paula wrote a tribute to her father recently, about the band of gold he purchased for her in Italy: The Book and The Ring ~ Part 2

I too have such a ring.  My grandmother gave the ring  to her sister Edie when they emigrated to the States from Scotland in 1918.  

Years later, after my grandmother died, Edie gave the ring to me.

I’ve worn the ring, a simple gold band wrapped around a teardrop-shaped  turquoise stone, since the early 1970’s.  Twirling it rekindles fond memories of my great-aunt ~ a lovely lady with a fine Scottish brogue who rarely went “abut” without a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. 

Thinking of her brings a smile to my face and a twinkle to my eye.

One afternoon, after sunbathing on the beach, I took a shower, toweled off, admired my golden tan, dressed, and glanced down at my hand.  Instead of a flash of gold surrounding a turquoise sea, I saw a band of gold surrounding a gaping hole ~ an empty setting intended to grip the missing turquoise stone. 

Saddened at the image of Edie’s turquoise teardrop laying buried in the sand for a treasure hunter to find, or washed down the shower drain to a larger turquoise sea, I retraced my steps to the bathroom . . . pushed to search by a slim band of golden hope. 

I glanced across the tiled floor, cold against my bare feet.  Seeing nothing, the sliver of hope constricted, interferring with efforts to breath. 

Please . . . 

Please . . .

In the far corner, a tiny turquoise teardrop twinkled.  I snatched it up.     

Thank you.

Stone replaced, I wore the ring for another thirty years, removing it for surgeries only.  

Over time, the ring grew smaller and tighter, constricting blood flow to my finger.  Cut off by a jeweler, the banded teardrop sat silently in my jewelry box, kept company by my wedding band and engagement ring.  

Sadly, they too had grown smaller over the years. 

Staring at my hands one morning, I reached a sobering realization:  Fat, aging fingers look bad.  Fat, aging, naked fingers look worse. 

With sudden resolve, I extracted the bands of gold from my jewelry box.

Re-sized and re-claimed, three bands of gold adorn weathered hands:  a diamond engagement ring, a simple wedding band, and a cherished band of gold surrounding a turquoise teardrop sea.

Edie gave me her cherished band of gold in 1971 . . . the same year Freda Payne’s Band of Gold hit Solid Gold.

For a related post:  A Case of Expensive Mistakes