Off With the Ring

Single Gal, reporting for blog duty.  

This morning, I went to put on my wedding ring, and didn’t. Instead, I tucked it neatly in the back of the jewelry box, with my high school class ring, the opal ring my first boyfriend got me, and the ruby that was a college graduation gift from my parents. Another chapter in my life, commemorated with a ring.

Ex actually proposed to me twice. Once was on a Christmas Eve (1999) in the room of his small apartment. He got down on one knee, looked me square in the eye, and asked if I would marry him. I said I’d think about it. The second time came years later, when we knew we were going to get married. We went to the mall to pick out an engagement ring, and surveyed all the shiny diamonds in the glass cases, sizing each up to our budget. I remember selecting the ring we were going to purchase, and right before the sales lady went to wrap it up, he stopped her. “You deserve something bigger”, Ex said, and had her go the next 1/2 carat up. I remember smiling. I didn’t need a bigger ring, but I appreciated the gesture, and wore that ring with pride. It might not have been the biggest or the prettiest, but it was special, because it was mine.

I don’t know what the appropriate mourning period is for the loss of a ring. My hand feels stark and bare – naked – like something is out of place. I wonder what will become of Ring. Will I get fancy someday – turn it into some other kind of jewelry, like most women do? Or will I pawn it in a drunken stupor one night, possibly for a plane ticket to Vegas or a pair of expensive shoes I wouldn’t otherwise consider? Or maybe, I’ll tuck it away with fondness, and take it out when I feel nostalgic. Either way, I’ll miss you, Ring. You may be out of sight, but never out of mind.

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