Easter Blessing

Yesterday, as you know, was Easter. While some hunted for eggs and ate waffles, I spent the better part of the morning at church and the afternoon in mostly quiet solitude. The later part of the day was spent doing laundry, watching one of my favorite 80s movies, Romancing the Stone with Ro, and picking up the house a bit.

While getting ready to leave the house early yesterday morning, and even Saturday night for that matter, I had been listening to some Bach and Beethoven, my favorites and my fingers were left itching to play Moonlight Sonata, Pachelbel's Canon in D; but my piano has been in storage for several years and on very random occasions, such as this past weekend, I miss it tremendously. I have a keyboard, but mostly it just collects dust under my bed because playing it seems to just leave me disappointed that it doesn't sound like my grand piano.  In any event, I got a wild hair up my rear this weekend that I absolutely needed to play the dang thing. And when I went to pull it out from under my bed it rolled over a little silver speck of something on the carpet. After completely yanking the keyboard out I reached my hand under the bed groping and pulled out a small chunk of metal; my mom's one and only ring I thought I had lost several months ago!  I've been trying not to think about losing the ring because it is probably one, of if not my most important possession and having not had it on my finger these past few months has made not only my finger feel bare, but my soul just a wee bit emptier too. In consolation I told myself repeatadly that the ring was just a material item; that the real joy and connection is in the memories. But I wear it on most days and especially at times when I would like my mom to be with me; when something big or glorious or difficult is happening in my life, I like to be able to look down and see that blue stone shining back at me.

My mom never wore any jewelry, except for this little ring on the middle finger of her left hand, and it's been through a lot. Several years ago I wrote a poem about it, the first thing I ever wrote about her or her death as a matter of fact. So you could say I suppose, it was this little ring on my finger that started the healing process, which continues to this day. In any event, my finger is smiling to have it's companion back and my soul was filled up just a little bit more yesterday too; what an amazing Easter gift. Sadly, I never did get around to playing the stupid keyboard. It seems instead that finding the ring filled up whatever empty spot my heart was trying to fill with music, with a mother's long-lost love.

I have attached the original poem below and am hopeful this week brings you many blessings of your own...

Namaste.




Bound
You were never one to wear jewelry
only in the last few years did you begin sporting a silver ring
three small bands connected at the seam by a little turquoise gem
delicate and pretty on your middle finger it sat.
After your soul left its mortal body
floating peacefully away towards your next life
the ring was found and saved by the medical examiner.

Later at the funeral home
I was told the contents of your backpack had to be discarded
and all the salvageable items from your car
stored in and pulled one by one from a wrinkled brown paper bag.
Passed across the table in shame and sorrow
were torn road maps, shredded credit cards, warped keys
and in a zip lock bag with your name scrawled on it
lay a small chunk of metal
the silver ring your wore, inside.
How inconsiderate i thought
discovering bits of your flesh and blood dried between the bands
smashed together, stoneless and bent in funny directions.

It will never fit a finger again i was sure
but in desperation i took it to a jeweler
begged them to fix it
and picked out a new stone.
A sapphire as blue as your eyes
mined by the bare hands of an Montanan woman in her fifties
a creative and independent art teacher like you.
And so i knew then it was fate
that stone in this ring
passed from one daring woman to another.


 I didn't take it off for a few years
and today it only fits my left ring finger
claimed now by another band
but even without it pressing cold against my skin
i feel our souls intertwined.
Mother and daughter we are
bound by blood, heart
and the small silver token of love you left me.