My most treasured possession is my mother’s wedding ring, which I received as a gift on my eighth birthday. I don’t remember my mother, as she and my father were killed in a car accident just before I turned three. Yet I grew up surrounded by love, hearing wonderful stories about my parents and their devotion to us. My older sister told me that my parents’ marriage was perfect and I yearned to someday achieve the same happiness.
Our home was destroyed by a hurricane when I was a teenager, and we survived with only the clothes we were wearing at the time. Fortunately, my mother’s ring was on my finger that day and remained in my posession. I always wear the ring, either on my right hand or on a chain around my neck. Although I have not yet found marital happiness, I still view my mother’s ring as evidence of its infinite possibility. I also view the band as a permanent connection to my mother, a tangible piece of her life that I know far too little about.
