Our Echo
Title, story type, location, year, person or writer
 
Add a Post
View Posts
Popular Posts
Hall of Fame
Projects
Visitors
Contests
Search

The Love We Share

Story ID:7225
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Musings, Essays and Such
Location:Caldwell Idaho USA
Year:2011
Person:Ginny and Me
View Comments (3)   |   Add a Comment Add a Comment   |   Print Print   |     |   Visitors

I sit and spin the wedding band on my finger with my thumb. Itís a habit Iíve
had since I first married in 1984. Back then, it was a foreign object irritating my body.
My wife and I grew as husband and wife. The ringís presence became normal. My heart
and body grew used to it. It was a symbol of love. The ring meant I was part of a team,
part of a relationship, one with another.

My first love and wife crossed into heaven. My thumb reached for the ring on
my finger. It wasnít there. The ring, once foreign but now missed, hung on a chain around my neck.

My life was not complete.

On May 27, 2004, Ginny slipped a new ring on my finger. I had love in my life
again. The ringís comfort on my finger was a wonderful reminder of that love can happen
twice.

One evening in the winter of 2010, I arrived home and settled beside Ginny for
our normal return-from-work talk. My thumb reached for the band on my finger. The ring
was missing. The rest of the evening seemed empty. A part of my life was missing. I felt
naked.

I was horrified.

When the weather getís cold, the ring becomes loose. I sat down and tried to think
of where it might have fallen off. Ginny and I checked the car. It wasnít there or on the
walkway to the house. I usually know right away when itís missing. This time, it had
slipped unnoticed from my finger.

Throughout the evening and into the night, my thumb reached for the ringís
familiar warmth around my finger. It wasnít there. A piece of my love for Ginny was
missing.

The next morning, I had my son-in-law drop me off where he picked me up from
work the night before. I checked the area where Iíd sheltered from the cold wind. The
ring wasnít there. I looked on the floors of the office and couldnít find it.

At lunch, the sun was higher in the sky. I walked back to the place by the building
where my son-in-law dropped me off that morning. The grass was browned by winterís
cold. Ė good camouflage for a gold ring.

I stared and stared at the ground. I moved to different spots and scanned the area
from different angles, hoping the sun would reflect off the rings surface and reveal its
location, but it remained elusive. Just when I was about to give up, I noted a circle pattern
in the brown grass. It was my ring.

I stooped, picked it up, slipped on my finger and felt complete again. The ring is
of little monetary value; it is of great sentimental value. I touch it with my thumb when I
pause in writing. Our anniversary approaches. This little band of gold symbolizes the
great times Ginny and I have enjoyed as a couple. It represents the challenges weíve
overcome, the fact we are a couple and best of all, the love we share.

Yes! The Love we share.

Michael T. Smith