During the initial wave of the pandemic three-ish years ago, medical authorities emphasised the risk of transmission through touch and the need to wash hands often, prompting me to stow away “my precious” in a drawer. I’d worn it for so long that a callus had formed at the base of my ring finger.
Just yesterday, I unearthed it from that drawer, relieved to find it in the same spot. It had been absent from my finger long enough for the callus to fade.
“My precious” has now returned to its rightful place, and I’m sure that familiar callus will soon reappear. I’m already treating it like the fidget spinner it was before. It brings comfort in its meaning and the familiarity of wearing it.
(If you haven’t delved into The Lord of the Rings yet, firstly: why not? Secondly, within this epic there’s a pivotal element—the One Ring, a seemingly ordinary gold band concealing an extraordinary power. A character in the story refers to this ring as “My Precious”.
If you’re not inclined to dive into the books and perhaps prefer visual storytelling, I implore you: take the cinematic journey. The films beautifully bring this fantastical world to life. It’s a cultural touchstone.
“One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.”)