A Sentimental Value
Mother never talked much about her wooden ring but I think it meant a lot to her. Not once in my lifetime had I seen her take it off; whenever it got dirty she would be consumed with manic desperation until she had cleaned it. The first time I ever saw that ring leave her attuned finger was also the last time she ever wore it. The cold night was disturbed by the raging blaze of a burning home; I still remember the look in her eyes as we ran to escape and I'll never forget the solemn despair I saw when that ring escaped her grasp. If not for me she would have burned for that ring. Fate has a cruel sense of humor though as the ring was her only possession to survive the flames. When she found it she held it to her bosom and cried as if she looked into the soul behind a newborns eyes. It was charred, ugly and none of the past engravings could be made out… but it meant something for her to get it back as if a small amount of good is enough to help you keep going even when things are hard. I made a necklace out of some hemp twine to hold the ring to my chest at all times and there it will stay unless death do us part.