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2010.09.08

September 8, 2010

Waaay back in the summer of 2004, we bought my engagement ring, and along with it, a maintenance plan.

As long as I bring it in for a checkup/inspection twice a year, any and all repairs, resizing, etc., are taken care of at no charge.   We got the ring at a nationwide chain, and there are no shortage of locations nearby, so it’s not a big deal; it takes about 15 minutes, well worth the peace of mind it provides.

Well, I brought it for the summer checkup, and they found that one of the stones was loose.  I handed it over to be shipped out for repair on the 24th, and ever since I’ve been a little out of sorts.

It’s strange, really.  I mean, it’s just a ring, right?  Wearing it or not wearing it changes not a thing – about my life, my marriage, my family, or anything else I can think of.   I don’t think I’m a better wife or mother when I’m wearing it.

I can’t quite put it into words.  But I find myself looking at the fishbelly white strip of my finger where it belongs, and I get a little … I don’t know … wistful?  melancholy?   I just miss it, that’s all.

The funny part is, I’m still wearing my wedding band.  I never take that off, in fact (although during my first pregnancy I had to wear it on my pinky for the last several months).   I would have thought that the wedding band, and all that it symbolizes, would put a bigger dent in my psyche.  But apparently not.

Ah well, the jeweler called last night, and the ring is ready for pickup.  I can’t WAIT to get over there to pick it up this afternoon.

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