IT’S MINE ?

Sue left her leather sandals on her rumpled paisley beach towel while I set up the rental sunbrella. The second her naked feet touched the sand she nearly scared me to death. ‘Ouch, Ouch. Wow the sand is hot!’‘What did you expect, Sue, ice cubes?’ I watched her grow wings, almost fly to the water’s edge, and wade in up to her waist. Even yards away her sigh of contentment was visible to me, her Grandma.

I was not too happy being here and needed a quick cold cola fix. From the small but adequate cooler I removed a diet Pepsi, pulled at the tab and cussed myself as I again broke it and a finger nail. In desperation I motioned to a black teen selling lemonade, handed him a buck fifty, drank it so fast, I wanted another cup but decided to wait for Sue to handle Pepsi’s ‘gift’ to mankind, can tabs.

Along the water’s edge, kids were doing what kids have done for years, even I, many moons ago. Castles grew and dissolved away. Little bodies were buried up to their heads. Two old bow-legged ladies put their toes in the water, then their ankles, their knees and dove in. They swam like happy seals. Silently I applauded their vigor.

The sun’s reflection of the greenish water infiltrated my skin with too many gamma rays. In a few weeks my dermatologist will surely be zapping new keretosis, maybe even biopsies, on my red arms and chest. This beach stuff never was, still isn’t, my favorite place to be. In fact, I despise it but pretend it’s great, just to keep my grand daughter company–at least until she can meet a young man, hopefully starting college. She gave up on the silliness of high school boys when she became a senior.

Enough time finally passed. I put my car keys and few dollars in my robe and walked down to be with Sue. She was in the middle of a group of children, barely out of reach of the soft waves as they kissed the sand and hurried back to their fold. ‘Grandma, sit with us. Why are you wearing that terry cloth robe? Aren’t you hot?’ ‘Young lady, do you think I like this robe? I have my car keys and money in the pocket. Just because other people leave their valuables unattended doesn’t mean I have to be foolish, too. How about coming back to the sunbrella now? You will some day regret not listening to me.’ Sue told the kids she’d see them later. We walked as fast as we could to the shade.

We talked. We read. We ate cheese/turkey sandwiches and Sue, with ease, pulled the Pepsi tab up for me. I gurgled down the bubbly coolness and burped a few times. I felt better, not so lonely, neglected. Sue and I put our empty sandwich bags into a large plastic one I brought along. It held our soft drink empties and tabs, paper plates, until we would reach the trash bin.

Why I began to put my hands in the sand, sift it through my fingers, I didn’t know. There was no purpose other than avoid idleness. I dug a hole until I reached wet sand, pulled out a few small pieces of broken shells and felt something else. ‘Sue, Sue, look at this!’ I shouted, but not too loudly. ‘I found a ring! Here, take it. Hold it carefully, tight, and wash it off at the water fountain. Bring it right back.’ Cleaned off, I had no doubt this was a diamond, a lovely, clear diamond. There were two baguettes on each side of the emerald cut stone. ‘Let’s clean up and go home, Sue.’

The following day I took it to Malcomb’s jewelers at the mall just to see if the stone was real. ‘Yes, Ma am. This looks like close to 3 carats, no blemishes as far as I can tell. Was this your mother’s?’ I didn’t answer, gave no information, thanked the salesman and went home. The first thing I did was look in the Lost and Found column of the two local papers, being just about sure there would be no ad for this ring. And there wasn’t. It must have been lost some time ago. For two weeks I watched the ads. Finally, I placed one myself. ‘Found, a piece of jewelry at the beach on July 8. Call 505-542-6549. Identify it correctly and it will be yours.’ The ad cost me $15 but I could not live with myself if I didn’t attempt to return it to its owner. During the next 3 days, 20 calls came, not one even close to what was laying upstairs in my jewel box. Sue asked me every day if I gave it to somebody yet. My answer was always the same, ‘No, Darling. It seems this ring is going to be mine for sometime. Some day it will be yours.’

My story ends with me wanting my grand daughter to have this beautiful ring, but not too soon.