Two weeks ago today, I was called by my jeweler here in Scottsdale. My ring was ready and waiting for me.
It's a cocktail ring that once belonged to my grandmother, whom I always called Mama (pronounced Mawmaw, but she always spelled it without the w's in birthday cards and other letters). Mama passed away two years ago this July. Papa, from what I see, hear, and sense, is coming along okay. He's always been so busy with life - the vegetable garden, flea markets, VA appointments, sprucing up the flower gardens, pissing off the cats, working in the shop out back....
This past Christmas, we continued our time-honored tradition of having Christmas Eve dinner, presents, and games with the very closest of family and friends at Papa's house. We've done this ever since I was a very little girl. I remember leaving late one Christmas Eve night and seeing a red tower light off in the distance, and my dad telling me
"That must be You-Know-Who!!!" The food is always so casual: honey baked ham that was cooked yesterday to ease the rest of the preparations, deli turkey slices, an assortment of sliced cheeses, a few loaves of bread to choose from, and lots of sides: fresh-from-the-oven homemade cornbread, chips and Fritos with onion dip, baby veggies (I always attack the cherry tomatoes), and sometimes even Velveeta/chili dip in the Crock Pot.
This past Christmas, as we all trickled in two, three, four at a time, I saw Papa waiting for me to come through the marquesina door. (Don't ask me why in the world the room was named "marquesina," I just know that it's always been called that, and nobody else in the world around me knows what the heck I'm talking about.) As soon as he spotted me coming through the door with cookies or pie or something sweet, he helped me take off my coat, and pushed me on down the hallway of the ranch-style house. He brought me into Mama's bedroom, where he's obviously troving through lots of old things - mostly coin collections, but nevertheless, lots of old things. He gets out a small white leather box and opens it up. "Now, you know Kristen has one similar to this. It's not just like this, because hers is a mix of diamonds and marquis-cut rubies. But it's similar, and that's why I wanted the two of you to have these two rings. Now, I don't think you'll really remember Ouida [Mama] ever wearing this fancy jewelry, but she did when she was younger and I want y'all to enjoy it now. I'm ready for you to love it like she did. Now, obviously, you can't wear it because her figers were tiny, and yours, well, they ain't, so you'll have to get it sized to wear it, but I want you to wear it and like it. Do you like it?"
It was such a sweet and touching, and somewhat funny moment. I say funny only because he is such a character when he gets excited, and he was obviously excited to give this to me. And, thanks Papa, for pointing out how tiny here size 4 1/2 fingers were compared to my size 8 1/2!
Of course, I accepted the gift with a gracious and happy heart, and vowed to take care of it for the rest of my life, and wear it with honor and pride.
So, about a month ago I finally took the ring to my jeweler here in Scottsdale, and he took great care of it. He was surprised to see such a young girl bring in such a specialized, custom ring and be so overly protective of it. (I warned him to take care of it for me and to let me know as soon as the sizing was finished.) Papa bartered and traded with a local jeweler, and sifted through lots of jewelry scraps to make quite a few pretty custom jewelry pieces for Mama. These two rings that my sister and I have were two of his own creations. The jeweler says that I've got a grandfather with impeccable taste in timeless cocktail rings. It was appraised, cleaned, sized, photographed, and admired before he called to let me know it was ready to be picked up.
And, oh, what a ring it is.




(Please ignore a potter's need for a manicure.)
(And, I must give thanks to some special in-laws for gifting me such a fantastic camera!)