the ring...memory sentences 030813

In 1926 (I think) Eugene asked Ruth to marry him, presenting her with a ring.  At least I think that’s what happened.  Should really revisit the story with Mama.  The first time I saw the ring I honestly thought: yay Pa!  What style and class!  The ring is gorgeous, I think.  I wish I had known him as a young man...what he saw in Ma...what she saw in him.  The ring now lives on my finger and often I rub it like I expect some Genie to appear.  My three wishes would likely include something like the ability to access anyone anytime.  By that I mean to be able to set some kind of cosmic date to meet someone in another time frame.  To be able to show up in my great grandmother’s childhood and get to know her and she would have no difficulty grasping that I would one day be her great granddaughter.  Or to visit Ma when she was pregnant with my mother.  I know Oscar Wilde played with the idea of going back and reliving former days but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about.  Perhaps even “The Time Traveler’s Wife” is a cautionary tale about such things.  But that desire to be with someone you have lost is a universal thing.  This ring which Pa gave to Ma is now on my finger and connects me to them tangibly, memorably, sadly reminding me of such a distance between us. 

I love this ring.  It will likely never leave my finger—yet I have promised my mother that I will leave it to my niece who was born the week after Ma died.  I can’t remember the last time I took it off.  Now it is...stuck...initially 15 years ago my finger was perfect, maybe the ring was a tad snug.  But now the ring is far too small and the knuckle has swollen slightly, but I can still twist it.  At this point, I can’t conceive of not having it on. 

Far, far too often I miss my grands...and ancestors I don’t know.  Sometimes I can almost feel their presence.  I wonder what they would think of the world today.  Wonder what is perpetually cyclical.  What they would advise about different questions, thoughts, doubts, hopes I have.  Are they essentially the same as what they experienced?  Did they wonder about their choices and whether things would have been different if?  Did they have to work at not being afraid of losing her home?  Their savings?  Did they fear losing their ability to endure?  Did they ever get discouraged by a profound sense that everything they’d worked so hard to accomplish was ultimately futile?  Did they feel obsolete? 

Just look at those questions...negative, fearful, doubtful, dark.  I twist the ring and it is a reminder of endurance, value, hope, joy, connection.  But I have to admit, right now, I feel sad.  Proud.  Blessed.  Fortunate.  Connected.  Grateful for this gift.  Hopeful that this isn’t where the story ends.  Hopeful there is more to this mortal life than a fragile chain of progeny, like some delicate, brief flower chain we used to make as kids...