Tuesday, July 25, 2023

They Are All My Fingers

There is a story about my high school graduation that my mom loves to tell.  In my small town, the district superintendent, a man beloved by the community, joined the stage to shake the hands with all the graduates.  I accepted my diploma but forgot to shake his hand and walked right off the stage with my diploma.  My mom was horrified but Dr. Buchanan graciously excused my action, telling my mom, “she had places to go, Carol.”  

Tellingly, I don’t remember forgetting to shake his hand.  What I do remember is the red dress I proudly wore to graduation.  It was a dress my mom didn’t care for;  I’d had to assert myself to have and wear it.  I loved it and felt bold and new in it.  It was a sign of things to come.  

After graduation, I used some of my graduation gift money to buy myself a ring that I designed.  I choose a large - more than two carat - emerald cut blue topaz and had it plainly set in gold, with a traditional presentation.  It was big and bold and I loved it.  At the time, I was 17 years old and determined to start my next chapter of life no longer afraid to take up space and be myself.  I think that people who knew me in high school would perhaps be surprised by that idea as I was often outspoken in those days.  But my boldly presented self was not always accompanied by steady internal confidence.  That ring, which I wore on my left middle finger, was a talisman to remind me to step forward and be myself without apology.  It served that purpose very well. I wore it for years.  

I quit wearing it when JT’s other mother surprised me with an art deco antique ring set with gold and platinum that I wore on my left hand ring finger.  It wasn’t nearly as bold as the blue topaz but it represented both a new chapter and a more genuinely confident me.  Beyond that, it was a sign that I was loved.  I adored it.  The topaz went to my jewelry box where it stayed.  I would sometimes try it on and admire it, but I didn’t wear it very often.  

When JT’s other mother and I broke up, I put aside the antique ring and my left ring finger went without a ring.  It was a hard transition as that empty finger made me feel like the whole world knew I was unwanted and alone. I toyed with wearing the topaz again.  But by then, I liked silver better than gold and over the years, I acquired some silver rings that I wore on my fingers, placing them on whatever finger I wanted, including my left ring finger.  A few years after we met, T and I bought matching sterling silver rings that we each wore on our left ring finger.  By then, I had discovered that I liked to have a ring on my left ring finger.  It was a quiet signal to the world that I was loved; that I belonged to someone.  

When that turned out not to be true, I took off the ring that T had given me.  I briefly considered letting my left ring finger sit empty.  I am not married - I never have been - and nor am I loved by another person in the way that constitutes a commitment.  But an empty ring finger on my 55 year old hand didn’t sit right with me.  I chose some of my stacking rings and wore them instead.  That had the effect of making my status as a part of a couple no one’s business but mine.  It’s not easy to be a single woman in a coupled world, a fact I know all too well.  The rings I've worn on my left ring finger since last November are about me; as I claim myself to love. People could make whatever assumptions they liked.  I knew my truth.  

Daily, I would open my jewelry box and see my blue topaz.  It always made me smile and, even if I didn’t wear it, I was reminded of all that it had symbolized.  A few weeks ago, I gathered some old gold and silver jewelry and my blue topaz and carried them to a local jeweler.  I sold the old jewelry and the gold setting for the topaz and used the proceeds to have my familiar blue topaz stone set in silver.  The stone’s orientation has been shifted, which seems especially fitting all these years later.  All these years later, I am no longer afraid to be myself and take up space.  I considered my options and chose for this ring to be fitted to my left ring finger.  I am all-too-aware that for most people a ring on the left ring finger is a symbol of a commitment that does not exist in my life.  But I have never quite lived by the rules of society and at 55, that’s not going to change.   I don’t know if I will wear the topaz every day or every once in a while but I am glad to have it in this renewed form, ready to be worn.  It’s a guiding light of who I was, who I am, and who I aspire to be.  




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