Last year around this time we took an exciting trip out west, where the Boy and his volleyball team won the National championships, and I smashed my engagement ring basically to smithereens.
It was not awesome.
Actually, what it was, was kind of a miracle. About an hour after their big win, which had been played in an ice rink converted for the tournament, we were outside the sports complex celebrating and I happened to catch on my sweater. I looked down and you know what I saw? NOT my engagement stone.
My ring was empty. Broken, and empty.
Of course I immediately burst into tears. The Boy rallied his team and they raced inside to help me look. I assumed it was a lost cause - it was a tiny stone in comparison to the huge, huge sports complex, and I had no idea when or where the stone had fallen out - but we couldn't NOT look. I was more than a little heartbroken.
We went back to rink and began what we thought would be a fruitless search, and then what do you know? In the shadows under the bleachers, after a hundred people or so had trampled over it and kicked it here, there and everywhere, was my stone. Miracle, right? I know. And then I kept crying, but from relief.
Anyway, fast forward nearly a year and I STILL hadn't gotten my ring fixed. It's not as cheap as you might think to reset a stone and completely rebuild and reshape a band. But with the anniversary of its destruction coming up and on the brink of another trip out west, I thought it was time (really I just missed wearing it.) I bit the bullet, and got'er fixed. Finally.
Too many photos of a ring set? Who cares. Isn't it pretty??
The bevel on my stone is still scuffed and scarred and worn from years of banging it around, which I kind of love, honestly, but the band is thick and sturdy and brand spanking new. It's so weird feeling the weight of it on my hand again, but a good weird, you know? I really did miss it. It feels good to be properly married again :)