I put the rings on yesterday because they were pretty. Both silver, one a tear drop shaped aquamarine surrounded by tiny diamonds, the other, two separate strands - one of tiny diamonds and one of rubies - raised over a fluted band.
With the bright sun shining thru my work window I was able to enjoy the sparkles from the rings, and while turning them on my fingers I realized that the backs, the part that sits palm-side, was tarnished.
Tarnished.
When I put them on, there was no emotion attached, they were just pretty and matched my outfit.
Both rings had been bought separately to represent something, neither of which now exists.
I bought the teardrop for me, with part of a Christmas bonus because I wanted to buy something that made me feel significant, more than the single mother who worked, payed bills, and tried to keep my teenagers from going over the edge or pushing me off it.
The diamond-ruby ring was to commit to a man who, after 15 years of being divorced, I decided that he could be the next only one. Guess what? Nope.
Tarnished.
A metaphor, perhaps? Cheap, but highly priced silver? Is that why I had put them in the box of rings that I would most likely never wear again but didn't want to throw away because they were pretty?
Funny how you forget to remember why you do certain things.
My question to you is this: what happens to the significance of the gifts after the event has ended? Does it just become a thing without feeling? Do you toss it? Regift it? Burn it? Ritualistically remove it from your essence? Put it in a box with all the other metaphors to remind you why you should never date again?
Tarnished. Such an opportunistic word.
With the bright sun shining thru my work window I was able to enjoy the sparkles from the rings, and while turning them on my fingers I realized that the backs, the part that sits palm-side, was tarnished.
Tarnished.
When I put them on, there was no emotion attached, they were just pretty and matched my outfit.
Both rings had been bought separately to represent something, neither of which now exists.
I bought the teardrop for me, with part of a Christmas bonus because I wanted to buy something that made me feel significant, more than the single mother who worked, payed bills, and tried to keep my teenagers from going over the edge or pushing me off it.
The diamond-ruby ring was to commit to a man who, after 15 years of being divorced, I decided that he could be the next only one. Guess what? Nope.
Tarnished.
A metaphor, perhaps? Cheap, but highly priced silver? Is that why I had put them in the box of rings that I would most likely never wear again but didn't want to throw away because they were pretty?
Funny how you forget to remember why you do certain things.
My question to you is this: what happens to the significance of the gifts after the event has ended? Does it just become a thing without feeling? Do you toss it? Regift it? Burn it? Ritualistically remove it from your essence? Put it in a box with all the other metaphors to remind you why you should never date again?
Tarnished. Such an opportunistic word.
1 comment:
I personally get rid of gifts when the person it reminds me of is no longer of significance. I tend to only hang onto things with happy memories. It is great to hear from you again. Have a great week ahead.
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