Lauren's "Bird Has Flown"

Bird has Flown
By Lauren McCloskey

My mother is an Avon consumer. Through her, I am also an Avon consumer. When I was twelve I started to browse the small magazines in search of the perfect clear lip gloss. Yes, clear lip gloss. I never understood make up until after high school. Nonetheless, one winter evening during the eighth grade, my mother came home with three of the newest Avon catalogues. She told me I could pick out a few things for my Christmas stocking. In the final catalogue, I found a ring. It was silver, wrapped around the finger and at each end there were wings. Two beautifully crafted wings that hug the finger for the low price of $19.99. Thanks to my mom, the winged ring was in my stocking that Christmas. Unfortunately, the ring was too big for my finger. Disappointed, I placed the ring in a jewelry box and forgot about it for years.

Now fast forward to 2009. I moved into my first apartment and took everything I owned. Every single trinket, all plastic Wal-Mart bags of random oversized t-shirts and each Rubbermaid storage containers took the five hour car trip from eastern to western Pennsylvania. Once it all reached my room, I sorted through it all. In a faded white ring box there were mismatched earrings, broken necklace clasps and the winged ring! I reunited the ring with my finger and it triumphantly fit perfectly.

That afternoon, my jewelry staples were made; three rings for each hand. The lineup was as follows; left hand: ring finger graced by a spoon ring, middle wore an intricate design with a diamond in the middle then pointer finger donned the winged ring. Right hand: ring finger protected by my high school class ring, middle dressed with a Celtic knot and pointer finished with a wrap around heart ring.

This gang of rings was a family and even traveled overseas with me. Summer 2010 they all made their European debut. Along with holding on to hand rails and Euros, they also held the hand of a Spanish man, Ish. Ish liked my rings but he liked the winged ring most of all. He told me in Spanish with his fantastic accent that the winged ring was most beautiful and rare. He had seen nothing like it prior to our encounter. He called me his pajarita, or little bird because I was always excited to go out, talked a lot and ate like a bird. Though I completely and utterly disagreed, he liked the nickname.

One night in June after a series of cervezas, bright lights and dancing, Ish walked me home. Down one of his shortcuts, I caught my hand on a chain gate down in an alley way. My winged ring was bent off my finger and fell to the ground with a tiny crash. Ish picked it up and handed it to me. In my attempt to bend it back around my finger, the two wings snapped directly in halves and again fell to the ground. I was devastated. Ish knew I was heartbroken. He lifted up my hand and kissed the sun tanned print of the two wings on my finger. I looked at him, smiled and told him in Spanish that it was okay because I am happy where I landed. In a foreign country with a beautiful man.