The Ring

I wear it everyday, on my left hand, on my third finger, next to my fourth finger, that place reserved for that day when my heart belongs to him who God has chosen me to fulfill his heart and soul as his only life partner.

It's yellow gold and white gold with rare paparadscha in the center. It's exquisite and special to me, not only because it is my birthstone, but because it holds so many wonderful memories. It's hand crafted and unique, by an artist. Purchased from a celtic jewelry store.

Just a little tiney thing. Which holds several stories made during a particular trip to New England not so long ago: Of laughter and of good times with friends and family. Of delightful surprises and carefully orchestrated efforts. of happy times. of a special loving time with not a care in the world for just a few days. of dreams fulfilled and of hopes and dreams yet to be fulfilled. of someone who cared for me and loved me very much.

I wear it everyday as a reminder to myself of the tender moments shared not so long ago.

I also now wear it as a symbol of solidarity and support.

I wear it so I feel so not alone and lonely at the darkest times at night and those early bitter cold mornings when I'm all by myself and I am gripped by icy uncertainty and fear of the stark unknown.

I feel it with my other hand and I bring it close to my heart.
I close my eyes tightly and I remember how it was so carefully brought and given to me, the little journey that it had to take to reach my hand as it was passed through several hands to finally leave his hand to be slipped on my finger.

And I remember that I was not alone then, and that I was cared for and loved very much. I may not understand why things are and why they happen, but certain other things are for sure:
The ring will always be with me, no matter which side of the situation I will be on, and whether I face it alone or not. It will always remind me of the stories that brought it to me, and it will always be a symbol of his love.