The Ring

This is my most valued possession, my wedding set. I know it isn’t fancy or expensive, it is scratched up and I can’t take a decent picture of it to save my life.

Yet, they are the things I love the most. During the first several years of our marriage I never took them off. When my hands swelled up during the extreme heat of one summer I had to pull them off for a few days. The tears streamed down my face as I worked them off my hand and placed them in my jewelry box.

As the summer wore on, the swelling went down and I returned just my wedding band to my hand. My engagement ring has 4 prongs that are fairly sharp and I was taking care of children, I didn’t want to cut them open with it so it lay in its velvet box for a year or so. When we went out now and then I would pull it out and wear it.

At one point we had to take both rings to be resized as my hands had changed over the year. We went to pick them up after we had been camping for a weekend, the two of us in a van stuffed full of camping equipment. Tony went in, got the rings, and walked out. He handed them to me and explained that the jeweler had “improved” it by turning the z shaped ridges into a brushed look. I tried to accept it but, when I placed it on my hand it looked wrong.

It wasn’t my ring anymore, not the one I had worn for years, it just was not right. I asked Tony to take it back in and demand them to fix it back to how it was supposed to look. He did and they gave us another 2 week time period before it would be returned.

Those two weeks were so long, I only had my engagement ring on my hand. I felt wrong. I know that a wedding ring is only a symbol. Logically I know that you don’t have to have a ring at all to show that you are married, yet, to me, my ring is an outward sign, a talisman, a lucky charm, if you will. It is a part of me.

When this 2 weeks were up, we again drove the 45 minutes to the jeweler, Tony went in to pick it up and they charged him for the repair. The repair that they had to do because the jeweler tried to “fix” my ring.

This did not sit well with me, I marched into the store, and at first was calm about it, requesting that they return the money, as it was their mistake. They refused. Ok, now they were just idiots and had compounded their mistakes. My brain switched off and I became psycho bitch. The one who fixes things. And fix it I did, to the point that they not only refunded that money but the original charge for the resizing.

I walked out of there, got back into our van, and my husband placed my wedding ring back on my hand, just as he had on the day we were married. The ring didn’t leave my finger for a long, long time.

Now, after 11 years of marriage the ring still means just as much to me but, I do take it off more often. I don’t want to damage it when doing many household chores, or working with chemicals. Even simple detergents worry me at times, as this ring has to last a lifetime. One filled with laughter, tears, joy, sorrow, love. A lifetime that hopefully will encompass 40 or more years, all with this simple band symbolizing the love we have for one another.

I want to be married long enough that the ring wears down on the inside to a much smaller edge. I have seen it happen on my Father-in-Law’s ring, it is much smaller than it was when they married 39 years ago. I want that, all those years of love, and that ring there through all of it.

One Response to “The Ring”

  1. Kitty Says:

    such a lovely story. My grandmother's ring wore down like that.