The Rings on My Fingers
Last week I realized that every piece of jewelry I was wearing was connected to family. On my left ring finger, both my mother’s and my mother-in-law’s wedding bands, both so thin that together they’re still thinner than a band someone would wear today. When I had my mom’s ring sized recently, I learned that there was a tiny engraving on the inside: my parents’ initials and the date of their wedding. The jeweler showed me on a big screen that the wear and tear on the inscription indicated that my mother had never taken the ring off; that it had been rubbing up against her engagement ring in the same way for a very long time. I told her that had been 73 years. I like that Mom’s wedding ring and Brent’s mother’s wedding ring are next to mine.
On my right hand, I wear my great-grandmother’s ring, a ring my mom inherited and wore every day after her Granny died. She pulled it off and gave it to me for good luck the day my son Forrest went in for a surgery that would determine whether he would live or die. I remember sitting in the waiting room at Sloan Kettering hiding deep inside my down coat for nine hours, waiting, waiting, waiting, and hoping Granny’s ring would work some magic. And it did. Forrest lived for another eleven months, and just now, I have to stop writing because crying comes on when I least expect it
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and that’s because those eleven months meant everything to me. Forrest went from being a toddler to being a person full of his own life and curiosities. We had time with him, is what I’m saying, and time was all we wanted.
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Sometimes writing takes me where it needs to go. I try to let it.
Right now, I’m wearing my mom’s very worn flannel shirt. It’s the shirt she wore when she gardened, when she made breakfast, when she sat at her desk, when she babysat, or read the newspaper. It’s way too big for me. She was voluptuous in every way. Full of bosom that would pull you in when she welcomed you home.
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I remember a time, during that 11 months, when you arrived at Prana rehearsal exuberant because you had just had such a "normal" experience with Forrest - like maybe he had been a little stubborn or naughty, I don't recall exactly what it was, but you were bursting with joy at the ordinary [miraculous, extraordinary] moment. This has stayed with me, a reminder of the beauty of the smallest moment, the most ordinary interaction - never to be taken for granted.
Beautiful Bar. Just beautiful. I love wearing my mom's jewelry. I feel her with me when I wear her jewelry. Thinking of you a lot and your wonderful siblings, and most of all, your dad. I hope to visit with him when I return from Florida. Roger and I have been in Vero Beach the last 2 months where we have been "channeling" our parents, doing what they loved to do in VB. So sweet.