half past nomad

I had carried the damned thing for almost 5 years before I finally delivered it. I didn’t think I would ever get that chance and after a whilst, it lay forgotten in the wierdest of places; my shaving kit. A childhood friend, she had no idea how hard I searched for it. Now that I look back at it, it still feels more like an obligation to give then to want to give. She had gotten gifts for me, souvenirs from her vacations and social etiquettes required me to perform such acts too.

I remember when I gave it to her. She was delighted, completely surprised that I had remembered. I think she may have even cried. I mumbled some sentimental crap and left it at that. By that time, I had started to hate the damn ring. I didn’t even want it to be a ring, I just wanted the bloody Cats-eye stone but the jeweler didn’t have anything else. And I didn’t have time. It was obviously the wrong gift, sending off signals that I didn’t want to send but I had to give something, right?
Damned bloody ring.

I hope she threw it away.

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 16th, 2004 at 10:48 pm and is filed under General Lee.