Her Rings

Today when my Ji’chan handed me this egg I assumed there was candy inside.

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Instead I found these two rings and golden crane.

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All of which belonged to my Ba’chan and suddenly I am transported to my childhood.

I see her hand, chubby and wrinkled with the natural beauty of age. She always painted and filed her nails. The blue stone and golden nugget were both chunky pieces of jewelry that my little girl eyes adored. They represented being fancy and grown up.That’s what I remember thinking as a kid.

But today, in my hands, slid onto my fingers, the rings represent love. I am transported to memories of her cooking vegan dishes (just for me and Joe), carrying them to the table, passing us silverware, or watching her crochet, flip through her mail, talk on the phone, write a grocery list, and these very small moments that I shared with her countless times brings me to tears.

She is gone and I won’t touch or see her hands again. But somehow, with her rings on my fingers the memory comes in a little more clear. It is painful and comforting all in the same moment. Because much more than these rings, I would love for her to be here. To meet Olivine and Henry and Paul. She sits in our hearts while we gather on the porch, in the shade, and enjoy a glass of champagne. She is remembered and missed. 

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