A few years ago, my mother gave me my ring, which had been my great-grandma’s. I loved my great-grandma, Helen, but all I could see then was an ugly, old metal band. Still, I set it aside carefully.
Great-Grandma was great in my eyes. She once told me I was beautiful, unlike herself, old and unattractive. I truly believed she was beautiful, but I was never able to convince her.
Great-Grandma died about two years ago, after I had received the ring. I was sad not to have her with me, but could only think about how she was in a place where she would be the most beautiful, and would know it.
I took the ring out after her passing and looked at it again. It was the most beautiful ring I had seen, almost as beautiful as Great-Grandma. I slipped it on my finger and it fit; perfectly.
