Ever since I was in middle school I knew what kind of engagement ring I wanted. It had to be a princess cut diamond with a white gold band. And, obviously, my ring would have to come from Tiffany’s. Because what girl doesn’t want that blue box — am I right? Anything else just wouldn’t do. It just wouldn’t make me happy. I hate yellow gold rings, and round cut diamonds, and multiple little diamonds on bands. But, that was okay, because my future fiancé would obviously know all this and get me the world’s most perfect ring. Except he didn’t.
The ring Ethan gave me is a round miner’s cut diamond in a square setting, with little marquise diamonds on either side, on a white and yellow gold band. It’s wrong. It’s just totally wrong. But you know what? It’s everything I never knew I always wanted. (And if you’ve ever seen Fools Rush In, you would know I totally plagiarized that last line. But if not, I know I just blew your mind with my creativity). The reason I’m completely and totally infatuated with this completely and totally wrong ring is that it is mine. But before it was mine, it was an Aronson Family heirloom.
You see, before I was the owner of this ring it was Ethan’s grandmother’s, and before it was hers it was her mother’s. So the fact that this ring has been in Ethan’s family for over 70 years and has now been entrusted to the finger of little old me is the one thing that rules out every other thing I wanted in a ring. I never imagined I could love a piece of jewelry this much.
I love the unique shape of the diamond, and the fact that it is cut that way because it’s an antique and predates the modern way of cutting diamonds. I love the beautiful combination of white and yellow gold in the band. And I love the itty bitty diamonds on either side of the center rock. But most of all I love the fact that Ethan’s family wanted me to have it. That before I’ve even entered into a legally and spiritually binding union with Ethan, his family already considers me a card carrying member of the Aronson club. And I carry my card, or my ring, with the utmost respect for what it means to be bestowed with something so precious to a family.