I tried to be different. I tried, God knows I tried to wear my ring and stand out in the crowd. I admit, some of it was pressure from over caring people but I think there was something precious about being the only one in a circle who wore their wedding band proudly.
But like I said a lifetime ago, the pains of wearing the ring can sometimes be more than I can handle. This piece of metal has been cutting into my finger with glee since I can remember and yesterday, I had it up to here. Yes, here.
Some bad things are not so bad to the level of making you want to change. Many times, when the ring has cut into my finger, I have been in a good mood. Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt so bad; maybe that’s why I was ready to wait for the finger to heal then place it right back on.
There was a time when I thought I had no justifiable reason to shelve the ring seeing as most people grow many sizes bigger than when they first put on their band. I have this sneaking feeling that is not going to happen to me.
But picture this: the wind is picking up and the temperatures are falling something fierce. The little people in the back of the car are going on and on, whining about something or the other and I am at an intersection I have never seen.
The driver at the back is impatient; he wants me to get out of the way. The light is red but I am not entirely sure if I can turn right here when it is red. So many things to think about.
Before all this, at the store to do the groceries, because of the cold, I am relegated to the traditional role of the long-suffering husband/father. I have to bring the stuff into the car after the shopping as the rest dash for the comfort and warmth of their chairs.
Of course I am mad.
Now after thinking about that mix, think about a loose cheap ring that has dangled on the second finger for almost eight eight years. Now trim the edges of that ring until it is razor sharp, then jar that ring against the finger.