The Ring

By Linda Drury

A man stands in front of a jewelry store window. Gems sparkle. Large stones reflect wealth and most certainly permanence. Diamonds never fade. Pressurized coal has survived to clear rainbow hues. Small shiny, proud stones are carefully cut coal products.  

The war has ended. The man has swapped his combat khakis for modest civies. Family has vanished. The world has no stability. All of the past has been swept away by death. Can young love reignite hope? Can this hope blossom into a good life? A young woman is cherished, held with reverent respect. She deserves the best he can give.

Can he afford even a small stone? What size gem can convey his commitment to their future, his devotion to his bride? The man eyes his wallet and hope is born in him. This is the stone that will wash away all the pain and the smell of death.

Years pass. The young bride matures. She wears her ring proudly. Her man rose from nothing and presented her with his best. This was the permanent sign of hope for their future. Their home is solid. His children prosper and remain safe in his care.

Age comes and his time to pass arrives. His bride joins him. His daughter, the one that belonged to his future, is rewarded the ring. She comes to understand and revere what the ring really means.

She sees him standing outside the store window. The daughter holds the image of this lonely pain filled man reaching out to young love, and a life filled with promise.