I used to have a thing for diamonds. Maybe it was too many afternoons eating popcorn and watching old VHS movies — Marilyn in the pink dress; Audrey in the oversized sunglasses — or maybe it was just the fairy-tale scenario that little girls seem to be steeped in since birth.
In any case, I brandished my great-grandmother’s single solitaire diamond with pride through high school and college, until the day my husband and I decided — on a whim, after two weeks of knowing each other, at the ripe old age of twenty-five — to get married, and it became my official engagement ring.
I’m still pining for the diamonds that got away, an eternity strand set in yellow gold that would replace the boring old band that has sat primly on my finger for the past 17 years. [Read more…]