The first communion ring

I lost a ring. I was 6 years old. My mother had gifted me this ring at my first communion. It was gold with two raised hearts and one blue topaz birth stone. The hearts had designs engraved into the surface. It shone very brightly. When I got home for dinner, my mother noticed it was missing from my finger. She was very angry. She started yelling at me. I was trying to remember where I had been. I was told that I wasn't allowed to come home until I found it. She took my bike. Told me I had lost it for the rest of the summer. My mother pointed at the darkening streets. Yelling at me to go find my ring.  

I had been biking around the neighborhood playing with my friend. She knew everyone. I had met several new kids that day. I had no idea where the ring would have fallen off. 

My friend had gone home for dinner as I searched frantically everywhere I had gotten off my bike to play that day. I went to see if she was done with her dinner a few times as I kept searching. It was getting dark. I was hungry. I was tired. I wanted to cry.
My friend wasn't allowed back out that night but she came out of her house holding food she had stashed in her shirt for me. I could hear her grandmother yelling at her to tell me to go home. She handed me some of her dinner and ran back in because her grandmother was coming outside. She came back and gave me a flashlight. "Good luck!" She said. I walked towards her shed to get her bike as I watched her physically push her grandmother back into the kitchen.

She reminded me that we had climbed this wood pile earlier that day. I took a bite of her dinner roll and started walking. I was going to check the wood pile. I flashed the light at it. I moved the logs as much as I could. They were pretty heavy. 
In the darkness I saw a glimmer reflect the light from my flashlight. I found my ring! 

I ran back to my friend's house to leave the flashlight on her back deck! By then her house was dark. Her father had turned off the television had had gone to bed too. I had seen the glow of the television through the side windows every time I had come by earlier. 

I didn't cut through the yard and hop over the fence. I took my time walking home. I was terrified to come home. It was late. It was dark. The long walk in the dark was nowhere as scary as what was waiting for me at home. I got to the driveway. My grandfather's car wasn't back yet. I really didn't want to go home. I held the ring securely in my hand as I tried to compose myself walking towards the door. I could see my mother by the door. I took a deep breath and walked towards her holding out the dumb ring and I gave it to her. 

I would never wear that ring or any other jewelry she gave me, out of the house, for fear that it would lead to me not being allowed to come home again in the future. I'm not a big fan of owning something that would cause me to experience such high levels of anxiety. I hate gold jewelry. 
Not for me. 
I prefer stainless steel now. 
Titanium is nice too.
Silver.

That friend, Faye, was always there for me. When my grandparents would go on vacation, I had no one to protect me and to make sure I was okay. Every time my parents neglected me, I would just tell Faye and she helped me. Those butterless dinner rolls she snuck me from her dinner plate. The times she loaned me her bike. She took care of me. I don't have many friends like her. People that step up to help me like that. My relatives were never there when I needed them the most. I will always love her for being there for me. 
She's one of a kind.

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