A girl’s best friend

Each one looked very much like the other (except for the color, of course)
and some even looked more like each other than they did like themselves. The
bewildering array of diamonds I sorted through while looking for an engagement
ring made my head spin. People in the stores threw around technical terms like
cut, clarity, yellowness,
brilliance, carat weight, and more that I have forgotten. I saw diamonds of
different shapes and sizes—with the naked eye, with that little thing that
jewelers look through, and even with microscopes—but they all looked pretty
much
the same to me. I, personally, don’t fully understand
why diamonds are so important, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life
it’s that reality will never conform to my understanding of it, so I picked
out a diamond and had it mounted on a ring that I could place on my beloved’s
finger when I proposed.

I didn’t do it alone, of course. My sister shopped with me nearly every step
of the way. My mother weighed in with her knowledge of jewelry. I consulted
with a certified diamondologist (that may not be the right word for what he
was—he did have a certificate, though). I was pleased with it, but even now
I can’t tell the difference between a diamond and well cut glass.

I guess the coolness and the symbolism of the diamond is two-fold. First,
it really is beautiful. In and of itself, it invites
attention without demanding it. When worn as jewelry, it augments its wearer’s
beauty rather than detracting from it or even unnaturally adding to it. Second,
it lasts forever if properly cared
for. Is there a better symbol of marriage that can fit on a finger?


NOTE: I had no idea what to write about today, so I randomly picked a book off of the bookshelf (The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster), opened it to page 23,
typed the fifth sentence on the page, used it as the first sentence of my post,
and
continued writing with my own words. I hope I didn’t ramble too much.

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