Weird, kinda freaky, totally needed and helpful . . . finding a ring.
I am in my empty nest transition, as I type that transitioning to what I don’t know. Am I just an “empty-nester” now, do I get another title? “Happy, single, independent, bird house”?
Anyway . . . I believe in cleaning and rearranging, it just stirs up the energy and you feel a little different. I want to feel differently because feeling badly my motherhood flew by isn’t very productive. A task I had in mind was the total cleaning of my car. Windex the dash, the cup holders, vacuum the dirt, toss my co-pilots collection of items on her side of the car. She stopped being a regular passenger once she had her own car, but I still left her candy wrappers, dvds and misc. trinkets in her door pocket.
So I need to tell you these pieces. My Mom died when I was 20. She struggled with breast cancer from the time I was 13. We had “mother-daughter” angst to say the least. We never got the chance to reconnect as an adult mother-daughter. So I realize my reality for an adult mother – adult daughter bond is limited. I might be experiencing my daughter (my only child) leaving with irrational fears about us reconnecting. (I don’t know, don’t you Freud yourself once in a while?).
It has been Kris and Kylie for nearly all of her 18.5 years of life. I was married for 6 months when she was 3, engaged and lived with someone for a few months. I let another someone live with us, for just a few months. That accumulates to approximately 1 year it wasn’t just us. Ky had limited involvement with her Dad, I’d say a grand total of 3-4 months time her whole life. To me that seems like we were pretty much a family of two. I am having a hard time being 1, but I am working on it.
I was cleaning my car Saturday. Working thru thoughts of my life being different, needing in a way for a bit of my surroundings to be different. I dusted and cleaned and mulled over many a road trip, and hopes for more. Realizing they hold the potential to be different. The glove box was open, and there on the edge, not in the glove box was a ring.
I picked up the dirty piece of jewelry and wondered why it never fell on the floor. I looked it over two rings, bound to each other. It hit me.
Kylie and I will always be connected.
It was the 4th of July, and the last time I ever saw my Mom alive, was on the 4th of July. I will always be connected to my Mother.
I examined the ring closer. 525 was stamped on this inside of one of the rings, my understanding is that would be considered sterling silver (925 is Tiffany Co. Silver). Then amazing as it was this ring fit perfectly on my right hand. I have large hands for a woman, I’m 5’9″ and not petite.
Ironically enough I had just reconnected with an old friend and she had a ring just like this, just engraved with the names of her children.
I kept the ring on, finished my cleaning, thought and thought if Kylie ever had something like this. Tried to think how it stayed perched on the edge of my glove box. I stopped caring about the past, and just delighted in the meaningful experience of having a physical object to represent the bond with my daughter. A real physical thing I could see touch and feel. I can play with the rings, they slip and mix around each other.
Once inside I got my silver cloth and shined up the new find. I wore it awhile, then tried to take it off, I typically don’t wear any jewelry daily. It sat in my jewelry dish for 10 minutes, I had to go back and put it on. I think this ring finally found its owner. I have no idea how it got to me, where it came from, but it is definitely mine now.