22. Dark / Lost

22. Dark / Lost

When I was little, my mother took me to the market.

The market happened every Tuesday, and this particular day I was off school because I was sick, but apparently not sick enough to stay home while she went to the market.
I got really bored, because she was haggling prices for every little thing she wanted to buy, so I ran off.

She found me standing in front a jewellery stand, looking at the rings. The stall had a couple that changed colour when you put them on, which six year old me found absolutely fascinating.

I begged my mum to buy me one and she did – after haggling the price with the old white woman who owned the stall for what felt like an eternity.

But at that age, waiting always seems eternal.

I got this ring with a stone that was like oval, like on Mum's favourite ring, the one Dad had proposed with, and with a changeable size so I could “grow into it” as well. When I put it on, it went bright orange-red, which apparently meant I was in an adventurous mood.

I loved that ring. I never took it off.
I wore it every day until I was seventeen, and Health and Safety rules meant that we could no longer wear jewellery to school, which was a ridiculous policy but one we had to obey. I put it to one side on my desk before I left for school every morning, put it back on when I got back home and wore it every weekend.

I remember the only time it went black, which meant I was stressed, was the night before my Chemistry exam.

When I left for university, I forgot it at home.

For the first couple of weeks, I missed it. I called Mum to see if she would send it to me, but she told me that she wasn't going to wade through the geological layers of clothes just to find a ring – I could find it when I next came home.
I could feel where the ring was supposed to be and it felt really odd to not have it or be able to play with it in class. But I eventually forgot about it.

I stayed in my little jewellery box in my bedroom at home as I moved out of university into my own flat and my first job, then back again as I did a Masters, and then moved to another country for a better paid job.

Eventually, life and my husband brought me a better ring.

The only reason I bring up my ring now, is because my little girl was snooping through my old drawers in her grandmother's house and found it.

She asked me what it did, and I explained.

“Mummy, what colour do you think it was when it was lost in your drawer?”

“I don't know, sweetie. Clear, I think.”

She nodded and put it on, “I think it was black, because it was angry because it missed you.”

My little girl never takes that ring off.