Normally I don’t have a head for details like dates and times—but I remember everything about the moment my ring came off.
It hadn't come off for more than a decade. After my first baby, my hands swelled and never shrunk back.
I love my ring. It’s a simple, silver ring.
We decided on simple rings because we were youngish, traveled a lot, and we assumed one of us would lose it within weeks, so wanted something easy to replace. His ring is still on his finger—mine on the other hand, is not. It’s in a dish.
My ring became so tight that it discolored my finger and no amount of dish soap or oil could coax it off. It was our last trip to Canada that did it. Our last trip. Last February.
We were in the car, my hands were SO cold, Canada in February cold. They must have shrunk ever so slightly. I wondered if I should pull at the ring. I did, and it hasn’t fit since.
I sometimes wear it as a pinky ring. And on my ring finger I sometimes wear one of my grandmother’s rings—I look down at it now, it's beautiful. It's gold. I normally wear silver. It's fancy. I’m not, particularly. I love it though.
I think I should get my wedding band resized, but there's something about changing it. I pop online. I find myself browsing through the line of jewelry we're carrying by Mary MacGill. Her stunning rings, earrings, and necklaces. I hadn’t thought about a new band, until this:
It’s so simple, so lovely, and it matches my grandmother’s ring—her ring catches my eye and I can see it on her hand: When she rested it on mine as a child in church. When she took it off and put it in a little shot glass on the window sill when we baked together.
Rings and pretty things—they're more than what they are. They're sparkly time machines that transport you to little, everyday moments of your life.
Moments like listening to the radio while cooking. Drives into town just for chocolate. Stops at the corner store for caramels. All while holding my hand with her ring just so. Her earrings she never took off, and a locket she never opened.
My mind drifts easily these days from memories to realities, to the "before times" as my new favorite radio host, Sam Sanders calls them: Visiting the inside of a friend's house. Remember that. Going out for dinner with my honey. Live music!
We loved Bar LunAtico in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn—a cozy little spot that served amazing food and cocktails with the BEST live music.
Or Sunny’s, another Brooklyn bar we meandered into one summer night walking near the harbor in Red Hook. So small, the music couldn't help but spill into the street a little. I miss it all so much: Being cramped into these tiny jewels that felt like we found them first: unpretentious, easy, FUN.
Fun! I feel it. Do you? A return to—more? Whatever that more is, I’m not entirely sure, but I feel we’re on the cusp of something roarin'. It’s the 20’s after all. We’re due. For more ease, more togetherness, more sleep? Oh, I hope so.
I felt for my ring, a habit I still have where my thumb reaches to touch the inside band. Not there. I rolled over, noticed Hubby was watching over my shoulder and laughing too. And while my ring's no longer stuck, this guy has.
Until next week—stay cozy at hōm, Sandra