Today in church I was twisting my wedding ring around and I noticed something odd. It had a crack all the way through the band and the sodder on one side had broken loose. After all this does not surprise me, I never take it off (hence the turquoise paint stuck between a couple diamonds from 2 projects ago).
Admittedly I was sad by this because I knew it meant a trip to the mall jewelry store and a couple weeks without it. I feel naked without it (sorry, TMI). So, as a substitute I pulled my promise ring out of the box. It had been a while since I’d seen it, let alone wore it. Still fit my finger after 10+ years. My 4 year old asked what a promise ring was. I said that daddy gave it to me and promised to love me forever and ever. She then asked what my marriage ring was for then. I said that daddy promised to love us forever and ever.
Not only was I glad to have a substitute, but also to think of when Dillon gave it to me and the memories of when I used to wear it all the time. Sweet times of life that seem only like a dot in time now. I guess the whole “getting older” thing is making me more sentimental. Dillon and I have been best friends for what seems like forever (he’d insert ‘seems longer’ here). It hasn’t all been sunshine and roses, but we committed to the good, the bad, and the ugly. I take my ring seriously as a daily symbol of that commitment.