When I turned 50 I wrote a blog about rings, about the stories they tell, about the bonds they weave.

I had 3 rings made from my wedding ring and my mum’s old gold when I got divorced.  One ring for each son and one for me, with the intention that I would wear them all until they reached 18, when the ring would be passed on, which they might pass on in their turn.

Last week was the first of those days for passing on and as the time came closer, the thought of only 2 instead of 3 rings felt wrong, for although he is older and moving on and out, he is still in my heart and skin and bones.

So we three went to shape and soldier, heat and bend, new rings and shapes to pass on again.

I passed him gold and in exchange, he gave me a copper band to take it’s place.

Because we will always be three, it is just that things change.

10 years ago when the 3 rings were forged, it felt like the day would come where I thought I could let go.

But now I understand that there is no ending, just change,

That the metal might be different, but the circle is the same.





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