I shift my eyes from the floor to my right hand. There I see a trace of what once was; a reminder of something that was on the proximal phalanx of my middle finger. It’s barely there. Funny thing about how sunlight works on unexposed skin, or exposed skin rather. The unexposed skin stays a shade lighter than the exposed. It’s a band of lighter skin where another band, of the stainless steel variety, was once placed.
The line of lighter skin takes me back to a time I wish was still here or will be again, soon; when that steel band was still on my third finger enduring the rigors of ubiquitous activities like a proper gentleman’s ring should.
It’s in safekeeping, the ring I mean; I mean to have it back. It brings more than just ten grams of dense stainless steel and style power. It carries with it hope, love, memories, and second chances – an assurance; a promise; a wish. Sweet nostalgia. Positive prospects.
Now, my ring-less finger reminds me only of pain and loss – the depth of which I cannot ascribe to paper or text…maybe song, but not quite. I’d have to borrow from a lyric of a popular broadway song:
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken
There’s a pain that goes on and on Continue reading