I bought an emerald ring.
I bought a ring because life has come back, and this milestone must be commemorated with a ring, as all of the major events in my life have been.
I went to the store where Robb bought all my jewelry for me. The same women work there who have been there since it opened; they told me they remembered Robb. I’m not sure if they did. I’m not sure if I wanted them to or if I wanted to keep him to myself.
They asked me if I wanted diamonds.No, those are saved for a different occasion.
They asked me if I wanted a sapphire,
but the blue wasn’t happy enough.
They asked me if I wanted tanzanite, but I have one already.
A dozen years ago, he had been sick and in the hospital until Christmas Eve, and I had delayed my shopping until the last minute. On Christmas morning, when I had nothing to prepared to give him, he gave me a tanzanite ring.
They asked me if I wanted a ring for my left hand or right.
I chose my right hand; the left hand is still reserved.
They looked up my purchase history, though I didn’t buy any of those items. Someone who loved me very much established the history on that computer screen.
“It looks like the last purchase was a channel diamond ring, December of 2009, ma’am.” An anniversary ring for our tenth Christmas together.
I thought I wanted a ruby, the shiny red of my birthstone.
But that was until I tried on the emerald.
Maybe you didn’t know this, but it turns out that in just the right light, emerald green is the color of healing.