Today, after admonishing Husband to be careful because Fred was in a mood, I foolishly poked at the playful feline with my foot. My carelessness resulted in a scratched foot. I bent down to examine my foot; no serious damage, just a couple of minor scratches - my own fault because I know better. Then I noticed something...
"Wait! Where's my toe ring?"
It did not take long to discover the toe ring on the floor, all but broken in two. It made me sad.
Eight years ago, I traveled across the country to visit one of my sisters who had moved to Vancouver. During that visit, in a touristy little shop in White Rock, we both bought toe rings; I bought a third to bring home to our youngest sister.
I've never grown tired of the moon and stars pattern on that ring, and for eight years, the little ring has reminded me of that trip.
I know I can buy a new one if I really want to. But it won't be the same; it won't have those memories attached to it.
Then again, perhaps the sight of a new and different ring on my toe would serve as a reminder not to go poking my feet at my 17 lb cat when he's in a wild & playful mood.