Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Granny’s Wedding Ring~Part 1

The slim, gold band at the very back of Granny’s jewelry chest from Okinawa caught my attention. It looked practically new lying there all bright and shiny against the velvet lining. I wondered who it belonged to.

I loved visiting with my Granny Warnick. One of our favorite things to do was to sit on her bed and go thoughtfully through her jewelry boxes and the dresser drawer where she kept her jewelry—piece by piece, tiny box by tiny box. Most of it was merely costume jewelry—things that pleased her eye or tickled her fancy. The precious time spent together sharing memories and catching up on the present, however, gave these inexpensive trinkets great value.

I didn’t remember seeing the gold ring during any of our previous forays through her jewelry. It must have been shoved to the very back of the painted Asian chest. Picking up the thin, unassuming band, I noted that there were no initials inside—only the 14K gold stamp. It looked brand new—no worn places and very few scratches. It appeared to be my size. I slipped it on my finger and asked, “Granny, is this yours?”

“Yes, it is,” she answered. “That was my wedding band. Would you like to have it?”

Giving was so typical of Granny. An original “home shopper”, she ordered many sale items from big and little catalog companies. Most of what she bought she ended up giving to one of her children, grandchildren or great grandchildren. If your alarm clock stopped working, check with Granny before purchasing one. Not sure what to give your favorite school teacher for Christmas? Go see Granny. She always had some really nice bonus gifts she had received for placing an order by a certain deadline or spending X amount of money. Everyone said Granny’s generosity would have extended to the shirt off her back—literally! If you admired something she was wearing or mentioned needing an item like it, you soon received one.

So I wasn’t surprised when she offered me the ring. Among the sea of imitations, she gave me the one thing that was truly valuable in infinitely more ways than just materially.

Looking into her paling blue eyes, I nodded. “It’s so simple. Thank you, Granny. I love it,” I murmured, reaching over and hugging her tightly.

“Good! I’m glad it fits,” Granny said, moving on to the next dainty box without further comment.

Granny rarely talked about her marriage or early years as a mother and this time was no exception.

To be continued . . .

©2011 Pamela D. Williams