"Hey Kevin, why do you still wear that ring?" My mother would ask me. I'd look to my left hand, to the simple silver ring with the Celtic design I always wore. I felt my chest heave, as I pushed forth a quiet sigh. "I just think it looks cool." I'd say with a smile as I turn from her and head back into my room.
The ring I wear was given to me one day a while ago by one of my ex-girlfriends. Even now, it's something I wear religiously. Without it on, I get the annoying feeling that there's something crucial missing. Before you get some strange preconception of why I wear the ring, I don't wear it not because of feelings for her that I once had, like most people seem to think. The real reason why I wear it is usually too much of a hassle to explain, so I usually give a simple answer that's only skin-deep. In truth, that silver ring she gave me is actually my class ring. But that doesn't explain anything, does it? All that explanation does is create more questions.
Have you ever had something that reminds you of a collection of happy memories? A card, photo, or even a shirt? You love that object because it reminds you of a great time you had on a vacation, or times you spent with friends. That's exactly what this ring is; a collection of all my happy memories of the time I spent in high school.
I remember the day she gave me the ring towards the end of senior year, roughly about a half a month before I graduated. I had spent the day at her house, eaten a delicious dinner with her family while watching a movie with them, and was now heading home. Her mother was driving and my girlfriend of the time wanted to come along for the ride, sitting besides me in the back seat, her arm intertwined with mine.
I don't remember how the topic of class rings came up, but I can vividly remember the darkness that surrounded us in the backseat as we spoke softly to one another, the dusk of night outside the car silently rushing past us while we drove down route six in Fairhaven while we spoke.
I said I was depressed that all of my friends had gotten their class rings this year if they hadn't gotten them junior year. She smiled at me through the veil of the darkness in the car, as if it were the silliest thing to be sad over. I explained I couldn't afford one, and I wanted something to remember my high school time by. I felt stupid, wanting to have something material to represent immaterial objects like memories. I was waiting for her to say what I thought, but she never did. Instead, she was silent as her small forefinger and thumb pinched around a small silver ring she wore on the thumb of her right hand.
She pulled it off, and attempted to slide it onto my index finger, then realizing amusingly that most of my fingers were larger than her thumb, which seemed to somewhat annoy her. Eventually, she found the right finger, and slid it on triumphantly. "There. Problem solved. Now you have a class ring." She said with a grin. I was stricken silent by her sudden declaration. She understood my silent confusion and spoke again through the silence of the car.
"Every time you look at this ring, I want you to think about all the fun times and friends you made while you were here at FHS. That way this is your own class ring." She said and I couldn't help but laugh while I looked at the simple silver ring. She was a smart girl, doing that instead of fumbling with the conversation like I'm sure anyone else would have. She spent the rest of the night silently, with her head on my shoulder. I had nothing to say either, nothing else we may have said could've topped that moment of understanding between us.
Now, I look at the ring and I think about the trip I took with eleven other students to Dallas, Texas for the robotics championship our club got nominated to go to. I think about driving my robot with friends at local competitions, fundraising with friends for our club, my very first love, the engineering course that helped me decide my college major, having parties with my friends, bonfires, all the breakfasts and lunches filled with laughter in the lunchroom, and all of my friends who were going their separate ways once graduation rolled around. I smile even now as I watch the silver ring dance across the keyboard as I type this piece explaining what happened on that dark, meaningful ride home that urges me to continue wearing this simple silver ring even after the love between me and that girl had faded and disappeared.
I look to some of the other students in my college classes. Others have those dark steel rings with a large colored gem in them that look heavy and clunky in comparison to my sleek, bright silver ring. I think back with a chuckle to the time I wanted to get one and I instead got something measures better than I expected; a memory of a thoughtful, understanding person on top of every pleasant memory I had of my high school friends. Memories that I'll never forget, thanks to this quaint silver ring.
Brainstorming thoughts.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I'm kinda annoyed with my progress on my personal essay so far (or lack thereof). Nothing has stuck out much in mind that in my opinion would serve as a good start for the essay. I have a few bland ideas in mind, but they don't seem to be very interesting to write about and I feel that if I don't enjoy writing it, odds are that people won't enjoy reading it either. Which in the end, seems like a waste of writing if no one enjoys reading it. What I'm hoping for is that while I'm busy doing something else, be it playing a video game, doing other classes' homework, or writing a chapter of one of my stories, a good idea will suddenly roll out of my head and my eyes will widen as if I had experienced an epiphany. That's the way I work, which turns out to be a pain at times. I get my best ideas when they're the least useful; IE: While taking a shower. While doing yard work. While I'm walking my dog at the park. With a few gentle nudges, I'm sure that good idea will come forth.
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