Sounds like a Nicholas Sparks title, huh?
It’s not.
I don’t wear jewelry. No earrings, gold chains, or
bracelets. Never have. I tried wearing a watch when I was very young but after
it was hit by a pitch in a Little League game, I stopped that. Getting married
and wearing the obligatory piece of metal took some adjustment.
I was never truly comfortable wearing my ring. I felt my
pulse though it. I felt claustrophobic. It would catch on odd and ends. The
feeling never faded into the background of my consciousness like it did for
everyone else. I never got ‘used’ to it.
As a newlywed, I often took it off to ‘rest’ my finger and
mind. It was nice to let that thin patch of paling flesh get some air and
sunlight. I must admit, being free of that collar was a guilty pleasure. During
these respites, I would place it on coffee table and ‘relax’.
At the time, one of our cats (before the Mew Beatles) really
enjoyed jewelry. She would find The Wife’s wristwatch and trot through the little
apartment with the shiny trophy dangling from her mouth. Necklaces and bracelets had the same
fate. The Wife learned to put those
items away. With nothing to entertain our kleptomaniac cat, she found sport in
knocking my wedding ring off the coffee table and batting it around the floor.
We both thought it was funny and amusing to see our sleeping
cat wake to the muted sound of my ring touching the coffee table. She would
slowly raise her head as the sleepiness drained. She’d stare at the ring…I’m sure
it was some innate hunting technique to suppress the flight reflex of the
prey. She would slink off the couch and
sneak up on the ring from below; careful not to startle it. Once she found the
perfect position, she would pause for half a breath. Smack! A paw would quickly
sweep the table and knock the ring to the floor. The hilarity continued as we
watched her repeat the pattern of bat and chase the shiny piece of ‘never-ending
love’ across the floor.
It was all fun and games…until it wasn’t. One day the ring
was missing. We had no idea where it went. I assumed it had gotten shuffled
into some newspapers on the floor which I had taken to the dumpster. I actually pulled our trash bag and a few
more bags from the dumpster and checked for the missing ring. No luck.
I went without a ring for a ‘while’. Embarrassing. It was also
interesting to see who noticed my naked finger and who was oblivious.
Once The Wife had sufficiently forgiven me, I got another
ring. Since I proved I couldn’t take care of nice things, this one was from Service
Merchandise. This ring fared better. It was a few years before I lost this
one. In my defense, I did find it a many
years later. I’m not sure how the
Bermuda Triangle swallowed it but it was gone. Maybe I had taken it off
after a workout or something and then never found it…until the Mystery of the Triangle
spit it back out…in other words, we moved and it was behind the bed post.
Between the ‘losing and the rediscovery’ of the second ring,
The Wife purchased a nice white gold ring for me. I liked it. I wore it all of
the time. I wore it for years and years…until I ‘filled out’ (if you can’t read
between the lines: I got fat) and could no longer get the ring off easily. It was
very tight on my finger. At this point, I
refused to buy a 4th ring. It
seemed silly to spend more money on a ring for a guy. I went without a ring for
years.
Finally, I did what I should have done when I realized I had
‘plumped up’, I decided to get the ring resized. Of course, the hard part was finding the ring
after years of neglect. I secretly
searched though The Wife’s jewelry box. I expanded my search to the various
boxes that were never unpacked from the move. No success. I hung my head in shame and defeat and gave
up. Yes, I probably gave up too soon but I ‘tried’ right? I get brownie points for attempting the romantic
gesture, don’t I?
As is always the case, months later, as I was searching for something
totally unrelated to jewelry or small knickknacks, I opened an unassuming container
and THERE was the second ring I had lost and later found in the move. The one from
Service Merchandise.
I found a jeweler online that I had heard of and took a long
lunch. I assumed they resized a ring by stretching it. I envisioned a Tolkien blacksmith
in the backroom with a small hammer and anvil, tink-tinking away on the ring
until it fit my finger. Then dunking the golden piece in cold water to harden
the metal. And lastly, raising the ring overhead dripping and saying ‘one ring
to rule them all…’
Per this jeweler, there are no dwarves slaving away in the back.
Nor do they stretch a ring. They cut the
ring and add metal (gold) to fill the gap. Is that true? I don’t know. Since this was to be a surprise
for The Wife. I wasn’t in a position to argue. I asked how much. The amount was
more than the price of the ring twenty years ago.…but can you put a price on
sentiment? Well, I can but I know The Wife can’t. Instead of just buying a new
ring, I dumped money on that old chunk of memories.
After a few days, I got the ring back. I slipped it on my finger and it was perfect.
I wore it for a few weeks before The Wife noticed. And only because I was fidgeting with it as we
were in a restaurant waiting for our meal.
This was great. I was wearing a wedding ring again. End of
story, right? ...Ah, no.
I finally did what I REALLY should have done when I was too
fat to wear my ring. I lost weight. What was the driving force to lose
weight? Our upcoming Alaskan Cruise and a
helicopter ride. Based on my weight, I was going to be charged double the
price. Long story short (I know, too late), I lost 50 pounds.
Now, that resized ring is too large for my boney digits. Every
now and then it would just drop from my hand as I was tossing something in the
trash or pulling something from my pocket.
We both thought it was funny…until it wasn’t. Last week, as I washing my
hands I realized the ring was gone. It had fallen off some time during the day and
I never noticed.
With my track record, The Wife wasn’t too disappointed with
me. I did search the places in the house that I might have done something that could
have caused it to drop. No luck. If it wasn’t in the house, then it was likely
gone forever as I lost it while shopping.
The good news: after missing for little over a week, the ring
was found. None worse for the wear. As you would expect, once it got hungry it
found its way home…hold it, that applies to goldfish and not rings.
That modern invention that every home has, the vacuum cleaner,
found it – under the bed and near the night stand. It’s been on my finger ever
since, slowly trying to get back on my good side after running away.
AH
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