The Lost-Found Ring
So, funny story.
Last Christmas my husband gave me a wedding band, one that matched his, even though from day one of our marriage I said ix-nay on the wedding band. Trying to be a good sport because it was Christmas after all, I slipped the band on my index finger as that was the only finger it would somewhat stay on.
Three days after Christmas, after Lovely Beautiful Daughter and I had gone to the mall where I'd tried on clothes and walked around several stores, after I had removed all the greenery from the window boxes and tossed it to the curb for trash pickup, and after taking down and boxing up all the decorations in the house, I looked down to see the ring was gone. It could have slipped off my finger during any of these activities.
Not wanting to say anything to my husband, I went about my day. I called the mall stores to ask if a ring had been found in the changing rooms. I retraced all my steps around the yard to see if I might find the ring glittering in the sun. Because the Christmas decorations had already been stashed in the attic of the garage, I wasn't going to pull down the ladder and stay hunched over in the crawlspace to search through the boxes. I figured the ring was simply gone for good.
When my husband came to me the next day and asked for the ring so he could take it to be sized, I fessed up about losing it. Needless to say, he was very unhappy with me.
Today, as I lifted out two tissue-wrapped glass Christmas ornaments from one of the boxes of Christmas decorations, there lay the ring. For almost a year, it was in a little box inside a bigger box inside the garage attic.
The day I lost the ring I thought it an omen. I'd never wanted a wedding band. I specifically asked not to be given one. Yet my husband did exactly as I asked him not to. Much like the diamond necklace he gave me one year after I had said never buy me a diamond. And much like the bouquet of flowers he got me for Valentine's day after I had said please don't buy me cut flowers. While these are small things, they are just a drop in the bucket of what I asked my husband not to do that he disregarded. Is it any wonder we now live in separate houses?
This afternoon, I placed the lost-found wedding band in my jewelry box. I haven't told my husband I found it, and I don't quite know what to do with it. Maybe one day it'll find a hand that truly wants it to adorn a ring finger.
Last Christmas my husband gave me a wedding band, one that matched his, even though from day one of our marriage I said ix-nay on the wedding band. Trying to be a good sport because it was Christmas after all, I slipped the band on my index finger as that was the only finger it would somewhat stay on.
Three days after Christmas, after Lovely Beautiful Daughter and I had gone to the mall where I'd tried on clothes and walked around several stores, after I had removed all the greenery from the window boxes and tossed it to the curb for trash pickup, and after taking down and boxing up all the decorations in the house, I looked down to see the ring was gone. It could have slipped off my finger during any of these activities.
Not wanting to say anything to my husband, I went about my day. I called the mall stores to ask if a ring had been found in the changing rooms. I retraced all my steps around the yard to see if I might find the ring glittering in the sun. Because the Christmas decorations had already been stashed in the attic of the garage, I wasn't going to pull down the ladder and stay hunched over in the crawlspace to search through the boxes. I figured the ring was simply gone for good.
When my husband came to me the next day and asked for the ring so he could take it to be sized, I fessed up about losing it. Needless to say, he was very unhappy with me.
Today, as I lifted out two tissue-wrapped glass Christmas ornaments from one of the boxes of Christmas decorations, there lay the ring. For almost a year, it was in a little box inside a bigger box inside the garage attic.
The day I lost the ring I thought it an omen. I'd never wanted a wedding band. I specifically asked not to be given one. Yet my husband did exactly as I asked him not to. Much like the diamond necklace he gave me one year after I had said never buy me a diamond. And much like the bouquet of flowers he got me for Valentine's day after I had said please don't buy me cut flowers. While these are small things, they are just a drop in the bucket of what I asked my husband not to do that he disregarded. Is it any wonder we now live in separate houses?
This afternoon, I placed the lost-found wedding band in my jewelry box. I haven't told my husband I found it, and I don't quite know what to do with it. Maybe one day it'll find a hand that truly wants it to adorn a ring finger.
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