Tuesday, March 15, 2011
When I turned sixteen, my mother passed on to me a beautiful opal ring that was given to her as a teen. I loved that ring. It had one big-ish oval-shaped opal in the middle surrounded by twelve tiny opals in a gold setting. I loved it because it was pretty and because I loved (even then) anything that held sentimental value. I’m still crazy about anything that comes attached with sentimentality.
I didn’t ‘belong’ to any one, particular group while in high school. My friends all belonged to various cliques from the popular cheerleaders to the kids that hung out in the smoking area between classes. I didn’t like all the kids from these groups, but I did like the ones I hung out with. One cheerleader that I was particularly close to (meaning we hung out on weekends and spent the night at each other’s houses) turned out to be a bit on the…odd side. But she was fun and funny and I enjoyed hanging out with her. Even our grandmothers were friends.
One particular weekend, CheerleaderFriend was spending the night at my house. I told her all about the ring and showed it to her. She thought it was so pretty and that I was just the luckiest that my mother had handed it down to me. After a while, she told me she had been having these ‘episodes’ where she would pass out. They didn’t know what was causing her to pass out and it had just started recently. We were listening to music and chatting away (probably about boys…or else we were gossiping but I’m darn sure we were NOT studying) when it happened. CheerleaderFriend passed out. I tried, unsuccessfully, to wake her up. The only thing left to do was to get my mother. Now, one thing my mother is NOT is a fool. She lifted CheerleaderFriend’s eyelids and said something like, “If she was really passed out her eyes would be rolled back. I believe what she’s doing is looking for attention.” Well, alrighty then. Not two minutes later, CheerleaderFriend was up and about as though nothing at all had happened but felt that she should probably go home. My mother was speedy quick in agreement. Whatever dude. I’m pretty sure that my mother was right on the money with her assessment of the situation. I’m also pretty sure that CheerleaderFriend was offended by the assessment. One thing that I was certain of, however, was that after CheerleaderFriend left, my opal ring was MIA. I looked EVERYWHERE for that thing. I certainly did not want to share this information with my mother because, sometimes, you might get something back like, “I can’t believe you lost that ring! I knew I shouldn’t have given it to you!” And what kid, regardless of age, wants to ask for that kind of wrath? Not this one, that’s for sure. (Mother would do just about anything for you but she’s the kind who likes for everything to go smoothly, without a hitch—you know, her way. When it didn’t, the resulting tongue thrashing was…unpleasant.). I looked for weeks thinking that the ring would turn up but it never did. And then my thoughts turned to CheerleaderFriend. Had she taken my ring? That had to be the answer! Unfortunately, once I confronted her with my suspicions, she vehemently denied having done the deed. I just knew that she was lying but what was I going to do. As time passed the ring became a periodic thought---I wonder where that thing went? I wish I knew exactly what happened to the ring. I hope it didn’t accidentally get thrown away. I hope Mother didn’t find it and is just waiting for the confession that I lost it. If CheerleaderFriend DID take it, I hope it brings her bad luck (I was still angry with her)….
If memory serves, and lately I’m not so sure that it does, it was two-three years later when CheerleaderFriend called and asked if she could come over and visit. I really didn’t want to see her, but I said she could come over. I still thought she was responsible for the missing ring. She came in and sat down and started blubbering about the bad path she had been on and how she had started going to church, found Christ, and turned her life around. She talked about how she was going around to people she had hurt through the years to make amends…to confess and seek forgiveness. (Wait, isn’t this more like a step in AA, I thought?). And then she said that she had taken my ring and would not feel right unless she returned it to me. But first she asked if I would forgive her. She just wasn’t going to hand over that ring until I said I would. So, I said it; took my ring; and escorted her to the door. I don’t know about the Igotmesomereligion issue with her—let’s just say that, if it had been true, it didn’t last long, and leave it at that.
I was simply very glad to have the ring back in my possession-- where it stayed until I handed it down to Birdie a few years ago (opal is her birthstone.). So far, there are no stories of further ownership disruption. I hope there never is.
This is the 15th day of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) for the month of March. The theme for this month is: in a word! My chosen word for today is: STOLEN from yesterday's prompt: Have you ever had something stolen from you? Tell us about it.