Saturday Scribes: September 14, 2008

The Mood Ring


Enormous baskets of fresh blueberries. Smaller baskets of red and yellow peppers, bright red plum tomatoes, fresh green beans. We strolled by the abundant fruits and vegetables. It was a gorgeous summer day at the Byward Market in Ottawa. Soon we came to assorted vendors: I spotted a blue dress and felt tempted, but remembered that I only had a twenty dollar bill in my wallet - not enough for a dress plus lunch. We continued on, though my thoughts drifted back to the long, blue sleeveless tie-die dress. Other vendors appeared before us. Wood-carvings. Healing gems. I chuckled to myself. Buy healing amethyst, one sign suggested. Another read, try healing hematite. I looked at the vendor, cheerfully selling his healing product and smiled. He was enthusiastic and probably convincing. If I stayed long enough, I’d be taking home several of these healing gems, in hopes that my aching back would be healed. The magnets hadn’t worked.... but maybe.. .

My sister Jenna and I, my daughter Victoria, and her daughter, Christina, stopped at the next vendor, who was selling jewelry of all kinds. Victoria and Christina immediately spotted the rings, in particular the mood rings. They grabbed at the rings eagerly, trying them on, watching them change colour: Victoria’s moved quickly from cheerful, to relaxed, and then settled on peaceful.

“Try one, Mum,” Victoria called out, simultaneously grabbing several rings and my hand.

“Just wait a minute. I’ll do it myself.” I laid down a large basket of blueberries (not the super-large $50 basket, but the still large $30 basket).

I discovered quickly that none of the rings fit me properly. The small ones were too big for my pinky. The larger ones were tight on my index finger- my only available finger. So I nudged one ring just to my knuckle, and watched the mood ring change colour. Green. Anxious. Pink. Cheerful. Brown. Depressed.

Victoria yelled. “Look, Mum. I’m worried.”

Christina yelled. “I’m cheerful.”

Then there was the inevitable chorus. “Can I have one? How much are they? Can I have next week’s allowance right away?

Jenna and I exchanged the usual puzzled Mummy looks. Should we give in? How much were these things, anyway? Hadn’t they already borrowed on their allowance? How much was in my wallet? What would that cover?

I looked at my ring, and figured that it should be showing Green for Anxiety, but it was still on brown for depressed and was looking very murky indeed.

Luckily the question of giving in or not giving in, buying or not buying was solved by the serendipitous appearance of three acrobats, giving a show at the market. One was walking on a raised stick, two others were holding the stick, and one of these was providing commentary, while supporting his friend.

The girls ran over to watch the show, forgetful of the mood rings. Little did I know. That night, I had a child sobbing by my bedside.

“I wanted that mood ring, Mum, so badly.” Her little body was convulsing with sorrow. “I’ll never ever see one again. They’re not popular any more. Why didn’t you get one for me? Why?”

I held the little, tired exhausted body. Telling her that she was just overtired, that the mood ring was less a factor than the fatigue, would not help.

She was inconsolable until the next morning, the mood ring was forgotten - almost.