I think we all need pretty things in our life.
I know first hand how easy it is to get encapsulated by media and all its glorious images of beauty. I took a picture of my new ring yesterday and posted it on my personal Instagram account. My social media brain told me that it was not ‘wedding beautiful’ enough for our business page so I didn't post it there, but I was still very happy with the sparkle, and the subtle softness of the vintage box behind it. In those few little moments I felt like this pretty thing was going out into the world for the sole purpose of enjoyment and I thought of beauty as this simple thing; to create beauty is to give beauty to the world.
Instagram and Pinterest are my life’s blood, but things aren't always as they appear. This morning, my little $20 ring that did not actually come in that pretty velvet blue box but rather a plastic bag from the drugstore, lost one of its small glass stones. And I’m not sad about it because that little ring is the memory of the dirty counter that my beautiful ‘ring photo setup’ was on, the loud cries in the background as my daughter has a full-blown meltdown, and that broken glass stone lying somewhere, still shining. All of these things make that pretty, fleeting image sweeter. Beauty has memories and feelings attached, people and places that come with those soft short flashes of time it provides. To create beauty is to give beauty, but not simply. Beauty becomes deeper and more complex from layers of time, its shine more radiant with loss and heartbreak.
So cheers to my broken bauble. For I am remembering my sweet husband wishing me a happy Valentine's Day for the tenth year in a row, my real diamonds being placed on my finger nearly four years ago in front of my father, my grandmother and many other people who aren't with me today, and I'm remembering that pretty little things are everywhere.