Ring

Look at this: 

My son took that photo last night.  It's my left hand, my dominant hand.  The ring you see is a tri-color, tri-metal snake ring that my mother bought in Africa in 1985.  She went there with a group of journalists.  They visited four countries: Kenya, Zimbabwe, Zambia and Mozambique.   I don't know where she bought this ring, but I've been wearing it constantly for the past six months.  I wore it off and on when I was in college.

On the way home, my mother had the chance to spend a couple of days in Rome.  She passed on that, because she and my dad had been in Rome 10 or 11 years before for the World Food Conference (edit: My parents participated in this United Nations conference.  I can't find a specific website for the event, but it is referenced in more recent UN documentation).  My mother preferred to come home to her family.  I was a junior in high school.  Mom knew how much I liked England and English music; she brought me an Oxford sweatshirt that she bought at whatever airport in London.  I wore that sweatshirt to school with so much pride. 

Now I wear this ring with pride.  The head of the snake always leans toward my ring finger, but that's okay.  This ring is magic, someone told me not so long ago, and I believed her.  This ring is magic, because it symbolizes my mother, and as I like to think, it symbolizes the strength my mother believed I had, even at the age of 15. 

Comments

[Thomas]

I think the real magic is in you.

[Donna]

Reading this made me remember the puzzle ring you had back at Sheffield. Right? You had one?

That's the great thing rings: they often tell a great story.

[Alison]

I still have the puzzle ring. :)