R I NG (s m o k e)

“Having been engaged rather a lot of times, Zsa Zsa Gabor was asked whether a lady should give back the ring. Her answer?
“Of course dahlink, but first, you take out all the diamonds.”
― Zsa Zsa Gabor 

Small talk is notorius for promoting yet more small talk.  The engine ran, and still he stood at the window talking small, seeking a connection long severed.  My mind ran through all the reasons to value making an effort to be kind, regardless emotion.  After ten minutes I finally looked at him. Not him.

His hands.

After three years he’d finally removed the ring. Something within me was filled with equal joy and sorrow. Sorrow because I had removed mine at least a decade before him. In my heart.

The symbolism I never cared for. Gold was unappealing, and diamonds even more so. I liked wood, and felt it was a better representation of ones growth, cracks, strengths, and weaknesses.  All else was too shiny and overvalued. If I could show someone the cracks before the offer, I wood. I’d want them to know what they’re offering to fall into.

There are hundreds of “at least I’s” we can take from every painful experience.  At least I didn’t die is often at the top, but perhaps just as often, some days it’s on the bottom.

Formalized marriage is not evidence of loyalty, nor are the rings to be found in its ceremony, but if someone ever wanted to engage in the sybolism of rings, I’d ask to share something imperfect, scratched, and pulled from the earth with little modification. 

The taking off or putting on of gold and diamond rings is but the beau monde inhalation and exhaltation of unpromised serenades in forests of steam, because life gets awful hot, and not until it’s unbearable do we learn who is willing to take off their clothes.

The shine in relationships isn’t in ceremony or jewelry, it’s in celebration of the cracks that make us who we are, and the effort we make to show up in them, to shine for ourselves, and in one another’s eyes.