Quill Library

When I Left My Wedding Ring (An Excerpt from the mini-book ROXIE from ‘Life in the Middle, A Discovery’)

When I Left My Wedding Ring

“For richer or for poorer
In sickness and in health
Till death do us part”

By all hopeful newly weds                        


Almost a month now, I have been feeling itchiness and redness around my left ring finger, exactly where I wear my 16-year old wedding ring. At times, because of the itch, I would take it off so I could massage the skin underneath, relieve me of the discomfort. But always, as always, I put the RING back on.

But that morning, out of severe irritation, I turned to HIM and said, “Yo, can I pleaseeeee stop wearing na this wedding ring?”

Gosh, if it was during our early years, I bet HE would have blurted out, “NO WAY!” with his eyes wide in disbelief and his nose broadening in exasperation (hehehe it is a standing joke between us that this is his look when HE is soooo, sooooo mad at me , which is, of course, most of the time. Wahahahaha! ).

But then, that morning, he just looked at me. He touched, turned and studied my finger like the forensic agent he watches in CSI , then, he placed it down and said calmly, “Yeah!” , then slowly walked off. Three steps after, probably sensing my shock, HE turned around again with a sincere look, this time, back with his usual daddy-authoritarian voice saying, “Don’t forget to put alcohol, ok?” Then, off he went again.

Hmmmm. It was just the usual husband-wife daily talk, BUT I felt something strange.  What was it I sensed? Ah, complacency? Security? Familiarity, or an ‘I couldn’t care less’ tone? Or simply, (could it be??? ) “It’s just a ring, babes. I trust you.”

My husband would not have put anything into this scene (Coz he is from Mars!!! Helloooo?!). But me? I’m from Venus. Nothing is simple to me!!! And while I was commuting to my 8-hour destination (that means office hehehe), my brain was in complete Sherlock mode, searching and searching again for something deeper, romantic and more inspirational than just the alcohol solution.

I left my RING, after 4,745 days, 113,880 hours, 6,832,800 minutes of my life (hey, how do I compute the seconds?).  I, finally, finally DID IT! (Whew!). After 16 years, I freed myself of the ring that bears his name, and the date when I (supposedly?) put closure to all else but HIM. The ring that signifies both smoothness and itchiness of sharing a life with one person. And like the mark it has on my finger, the 16 years stood for what I have become after the ‘I do’ (Oh my, whatever that has been!).

BUT then, in spite of the relief I felt, the lightness it brought, the thrill of feeling the air around my finger.  Call it ‘stupidity, sis?!’, even if I knew I would be 30 minutes late, I suddenly, like a woman in panic, got off the jeepney, strode home, hurried upstairs, saw it, grabbed it and put it back on. MY RING.

(And shhhhhh. Yes, I was really late for work!!! )

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