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Wedding Rings

Last month my sweet husband purchased a beautiful gold wedding ring for me.  I needed one because I have managed to lose four rings in the twenty-seven years that we have been married.  This new ring is slightly small for me, so I am not planning on taking it off.  With any luck, I will keep it on my finger until I die.  I can only hope so.   

When I admire my new ring, I remember how my oldest daughter, got engaged and received a ring from a boy in her kindergarten class.  One afternoon when she had been in kindergarten for about a month, she came home and announced to me that Robbie, a boy in her class, had told her that she was going to marry him and be his wife.  I asked her what she had said to that and she replied, “I told him that if we were going to get married, he should bring me a ring.” 

Two days later she came home with a ring on her finger.  It was made of some kind of silver metal which was malleable so that it could be adjusted to fit her tiny ring finger.  On the top was the biggest glass stone that I had ever seen.  She stretched out her little plump hand, just like the older newly engaged girls do, to show off a diamond engagement ring.  With a beautiful smile on her face, she said, “Mom, I just love my ring.  I’m going to wear it every day until Robbie and I get married.” 

True to her vow, oldest daughter at age six wore her ring night and day, and often showed it off to her friends and mine.  She was as proud of that ring as any older girl could be.   

When oldest daughter’s birthday came up in March, I reminded her that she could invite two friends for a birthday dinner if she would like to do so.  In those days, I did not let my children have birthday parties with a dozen or more friends, since I knew from my own experiences that parties could turn out to be a disaster.  So, the rule was one or two friends for dinner on the special day.  Oldest daughter immediately said she only wanted to invite Robbie.  I followed up with a call to his mother, and it was all set.  

On the day of the birthday, Robbie arrived at our house right on time. He was really cute with blond curly hair and a gorgeous engaging grin.  Oldest daughter was upstairs getting ready, so Robbie came into the kitchen with me.  Showing me a beautifully wrapped gift, he said, “I never shopped for a girl before.  My mother took me to the store, and she said I should get a doll.  That’s what’s in this box.  I hope it’s okay.” 

Assuring him that oldest daughter would like anything he would give her; we went on to a lovely dinner where the two of them conversed as though were grown.  When it came time for oldest daughter to open her gift, she gushed over the doll Robbie had chosen and told him that she loved it.  The evening was obviously a big success. 

Later when oldest daughter was getting ready for bed, she informed me that she was never going to marry Robbie.  When I questioned her about her decision, she said, “He gave me a doll.  He knows I never play in the doll corner.  I always play that I am going to the store to shop.  He just isn’t paying attention to me.” 

I then advised her that if that was her decision, she should tell him and give him back his ring.  That was answered with a totally horrified look on her face, and with a deep sigh she said, “Okay, all right, I’ll marry him.  I love this ring.” 

Sometime after that evening, we moved to the South when her dad was transferred to a new job.  Although we never knew what happened to Robbie, oldest daughter continued to wear her engagement ring.  It was a good thing that the size could be adjusted, because that ring was on her finger until she went to middle school.  I never knew or didn’t pay any attention when the ring was finally put away, and was replaced by necklaces and earrings. 

Before writing this little story, I called oldest daughter and asked her what ever had happened to the ring.  She was sort of indignant when she answered me, “Mom,” she said, “What do you mean what happened to that ring?  It’s in my jewelry box.” 

I must admit I was astonished.  “You mean you have kept that ring more than fifty years?” I asked. 

“Of course,” she said with a little giggle, “That was my first engagement ring, and I will always treasure it.”  That was certainly a lot better than her mom, who has managed to lose four wedding rings and never kept any of them in a jewelry box.   


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About the Contributor
Maryann Nunnally
Maryann Nunnally, Contributing Writer
Maryann Nunnally is a retired high school principal and professional comedienne. She writes the regular column Laughing through the Golden Years for Cape Fear Voices.

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