Writing for Fun
February 2016
The Vanishing - Jenni Bowers
It's vanished! I'm sure I put it on the sink when I washed up this morning but I can't find it now. He gave it to me after our first year together, the little gold band with 3 sapphires, not expensive but so pretty.
For years it stayed where the wedding ring should have gone, our romance crushed by the advent of that war – I said I'd wait but he was gone so long, then the telegram 'missing in action'. Of course I grieved as many a young girl did in those awful years, some overjoyed to have their men home but badly scarred and injured, and the lucky ones – he's only shell shocked they'd say – not realising the impact of the shells on those poor minds.
Well I moved on of course, the G I's took full advantage of us lonely British girls, I married one and left family and sad memories behind – G I bride they called me.
Life was tough at first, the mother-in-law hated me, she'd already lined up a bride for 'her' son and was determined to wreck my marriage – however, I clung on and made a decent life with Ted and our 3 children. I wore his bright, showy diamond next to my wedding band and Tim's little 'friendship ring' took pride of place on my right hand – never moving from that special place in my heart.
I returned home a few times as our fortunes changed and brought the grandchildren as often as I could before my parents died. This visit was to clear up their house, sort through the old photos and detritus of their lives. The sad job of washing flower pots and ornaments ready to go to a charity shop – I'd put the 3 rings on the windowsill, I was sure – Teds 2 were back on my left hand but Tim's was nowhere to be found.
I sat at the kitchen table enjoying the rays of the sun lighting up the sideboard upon which lay piles of photographs and albums – taking one down I began to peruse the sepia toned images and found one of Tim and I laughing together on the swing by the apple tree we must have been about 16 and 17.
Wandering down the garden I saw the swing was long gone but to my surprise a jackdaw sat in the hawthorn bush planted when that space became available to my bird loving parents. In it's beak glinted my little ring; how on earth was I to claim it now? Happily a large ginger tom suddenly sprang at the bird, it dropped the ring on the other side of the hedge and as I struggled past the thorns and tried to retrieve it I felt a hand reach out and place it on my finger – my wedding finger!