Mother believed a woman’s place was in the home, so she didn’t have an outside job. In fact, she didn’t even drive.
Dad, on the other hand, worked two jobs to support us: lawn maintenance in the mornings, and swing shift foreman at a smelting plant at night.
There was finally enough money that he could get her a piece of “good” jewelry for their 25th anniversary. He had a gold pendant made, with diamonds and three marquise-cut rubies – her birthstone.
She wore that necklace on its finely woven gold chain constantly, taking it off only to bathe and to sleep. But one day – tragedy! One of the rubies had fallen out of its setting.
Dad took it back to the jeweler for repair, yet the new ruby was darker (and more costly) than the two more pinkish original stones.
To Mother’s eye, however, the necklace was ruined. No longer perfect, she never wore it again.
When she passed away, I asked for that necklace, as a reminder that an apparent imperfection may actually be an item’s most valuable gem.
More moms and dads
No jelly smears or butter blobs
A Christmas memory, ever so strong
