I Miss My Wedding Ring

Today is special for Amy and me. It’s our 36th wedding anniversary. Yep, I wonder too why she’s stayed with me all these years; she surely married way beneath herself, and she’s too pretty to have married a frog like me. Anyhow, we’ve been married a long time. I’m glad my wife is with me. I looked at the a bare digit on my left hand the other day and realized that I miss my wedding ring.

My first ring took a beating. It never came off my finger. I wore it to mow the yard, split wood, and dig holes. Even when Dallas and Lacey practiced ball in the yard or on a field, I hit grounders and threw batting practice with that ring on my finger. Over the years, the rough treatment put nicks and scratches on the ring.

Amy bought me another wedding ring for Christmas one year. She took the old one and had the jeweler to melt it and then make a piece of jewelry for herself. The new ring was much more comfortable. It had rounded edges that kept the ring from digging into the flesh of my finger and hand. By the time I got that ring, I was accustomed to wearing a ring, and when I took it off for any reason, my finger was naked. Something about not having that ring on felt strange and out of place.

Like the first ring, I wore the new one at all times. It too had a few scratches on it, but no nicks had been cut into the ring. By then I’d learned to wear gloves to prevent too much abuse to it.

A few years ago, the joints in my ring finger began to lock. The problem worsened until I had to use my right hand to straighten the finger when I grasped something. Before long, my finger began to swell, and my ring began to squeeze the circulation from it. With a wheel barrow of regret, I removed my wedding ring and placed in a jewelry box. A couple of weeks ago, I retrieved it and handed it to Amy. I told her to take it somewhere and trade it in for a piece she liked.

I miss that ring. After so many years, it felt natural. Sometimes I’d turn it on my finger as I contemplated something of importance. And yes, it was a true symbol of a marriage that’s survived the test of time. Each of those scratches and nicks in the first ring were symbols of the sometimes rocky road Amy and I traveled. It’s true that a couple needs at least five years of work to smooth the wrinkles from a marriage. Most of the time it was I who “screwed up,” but Amy was patient enough until I got things right.

The second ring was a symbol as well. Its edges were rounded and that made the ring more comfortable on the finger. The years wore away the rough edges of our marriage as well. We’ve learned lessons about living together. I am still working on patience, and Amy still works on tolerance (of me). What we both agree on is that we love each other more now than we did on that December 20th evening in Cookeville when we exchanged vows. It’s also a deeper, more profound love than in our youth.

So, I’ll be naked-fingered when we celebrate this year’s anniversary, but maybe by the next anniversary I’ll have a third ring. Surgery fixed the problems I had with my finger, so a new one might slip on as comfortably as the other two. It’s for sure that another ring will have its share of symbolism. Even if I don’t have a ring, I’ll still have my bride. For that I am most grateful.

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