I was about twelve years old and in seventh grade at Northeastern Junior High School when Mum had her ruby ring repaired for me. As I recall, she was given this ring by her parents when she was about the age of twelve.
The ruby, an oval shaped stone, is set in a pretty set of raised prongs atop a yellow gold band. I loved it because it was Mum’s first and then handed down to me, and for the ruby red coloring, but mostly because of its regal setting—it looked as if it should be on the finger of royalty.
I loved wearing that ring, and would sit at my school desk, pose my hand in a variety of positions and switch between first left, then right hand, in order to find the best possible angle to show it off. Sometimes I would stand a purse-sized mirror on my school desk or bedroom vanity for more of an “outsider” view of how the ring looked on my finger. I felt so grow up! Continue reading