I never thought I would grow so attached to my ring. It's a simple one with a silver band and a cloudy glass stone with modest decorations. The stone reminds me of where I got it; on the a top of Florida, right next to a dock. The ocean was a beautiful blue-green color, like the stone I'm currently wearing, and it was a bright and sunny day. The stand was covered in racks of jewelry, but mostly rings. I hadn't gotten anything and was actually rather miserable the entire trip, but this stand caught my eye. I quickly found out my size (seven) and started looking, overwhelmed by the variety of choices. I ruled out the ones with large stones and the ones that looked to hipster. The only rings I was ever in regular contact with was a thin one my mom wore. It had a small emerald with a thin gold band. My mom had gotten it from her mom when she graduated high school, and I thought it was simple yet elegant. I subconsciously wanted something like it, but was looking at ones I thought would display my interests the best. After handling one with a treble clef, and another one with a piano, I realized that I would never come to like it and just let my eyes wander, frustrated. Then I saw it. It was a simple yet elegant ring, similar to my mom's with a thicker band and different colors. I slipped it on and thought that it looked perfectly in place on my slim tan hand and matched incredibly well. It had nothing to do with my interests, but was so perfect that I had to get it. My sister got one with an arrow, and they were both eighteen dollars each. I was so happy that I had found something that was so complementary, and it made the rest of my trip.
In the end, I protected my ring well. I took it off before eating and washing my hands, scared that I might get it dirty or wet. I lost it twice and nearly cried when I did, but found it a bit after that and was very grateful. At first I just wore it during the day, but then I was wearing it all the time. I had grown on the ring, and when I wasn't wearing it, I could tell. When I was nervous, I would twist it with my free hand or fingers. I absolutely adored it and was careful with people handling it.
My sister wore her ring for a week and a half, then lost it. She didn't really care.
Do I grow attached to easily? Or do I just appreciate the rare perfect things more than most people around my age do?
Am I crazy?
YOU ARE READING
constantly blooming.
Poetry'i will never stop blooming, like an eternal rose of flame... i may have my times of smolder and small sparks, but i will always become a huge inferno in the end... and nothing can stop me.' Collection of poetry and prose between the ages of 10-15...
