One August afternoon, seven years ago, an adorably nervous young man took me hiking in the hills, got down on his knees, and asked me to be his wife. He presented me with an heirloom ring; two-tone with one small diamond. To me, that ring was perfect. It came from the past, from his family, not from a jewelry store. With its slender band, modest stone, and white gold decorations it resembled nothing that graced the ring fingers of my peers.
One April evening, months ago, after learning of this man's betrayal and seeing his persistent self-justification, I gave back the ring and its accompanying wedding band.
One August afternoon, just weeks ago, a confident yet contrite father of two took me hiking in new hills. He got down on his knees and told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He presented me with a familiar yet transformed ring; a larger diamond flanked by my birthstone and another small diamond on each side. To us, that ring is perfect. It retains its heirloom look, but includes new completely unique designs. The new diamond's value represents his desire to invest in the one he loves. It has been re-shanked, and now faces life's wear and tear with a stronger foundation.
Seven years ago, I received a perfect gift, and I wanted it to stay the same forever.
This year, I lost that gift. And a new one took its place. One that promises better things than I ever knew how to desire.
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