Letter to my great-aunt Alferdina,
You may not know this, but every day I look at you. I play with you when I’m nervous, I check you are still there several times a day. Once I thought I had lost you on a bus, my heart sank! But you where still there, hiding inside the glove.
What I look at is not you, will never be you and has probably never been you as for when it was born, only to me. The beauty is only I can see it. I look at my finger and I see myself in the reflection of the diamond, if I look close I can see several of me, if I look closer, I like to believe I see you. At least I do with my eyes closed. My image expands through the texture of the metal, through the stiff gold ribbons that hold the stone up in the center. I can’t describe its shape, it is as if Midas has touched a beautiful draped satin, that turned gold for eternity.
I’ve been asked if it’s a man’s ring, I say it’s yours. You might have inherited it from someone, but I as long as I know it holds your essence and as such it’s a droplet of you, I get weirdly possessive about it’s heritage. I’ve been asked if I’m engaged, I’d be the happiest woman on earth if this was my wedding ring, but clearly those people don’t know much, as they can’t count two ringless fingers on each side of you. I wear it on the middle finger of my right hand because it’s the only place where it wouldn’t fall. Your hands were bigger than mine, I know that now.
I wonder if this ring has told me more about you, that I now consider I always knew, but that came only with it. In a way, I wish I hadn’t this ring, but that would have meant the cycle of life had not ran its course. In the materialistic world we live in, often we forget why we care about things, when matter merges with metal, we cannot disassociate the two. These objects should work in reverse, they exist to remind us that something else beyond them is there.
Never had I before cared so dearly about an object. I find myself dumbfounded by the importance I give it. I feel naked without it. If I forget to put it on in the morning, I know I’ll keep longing for it the rest of the day. My thumb reaches out to my middle finger where tan lines stand instead of you and my heart skips a beat every time I think I have lost you.
But I will never lose you, thank you for making it impossible to forget you.