Today, for the first time in well over a decade, I stopped wearing my grandmothers wedding band.
It was left to me when she passed away at the ripe old age of 102.
I've always loved it, not only because of it's sentimentality, but because it's a lovely, simple, comfortable piece of jewellery.
I always thought that if I ever lost my better judgement and decided to marry some unsuspecting fool, I'd continue to wear it, [just on the other hand]
In fact, there was a time when I wore the band on my left hand, to see if people even took note of that sort of thing.
The women at the bank did...
When I departed for a six month around the world trip, they asked,
'Is your husband going with you?'
In more recent years, I have wondered, [even though I wear the band on my right hand] if people think I am married.
Apparently the Greeks and The Swedes wear their wedding bands on their right hand.
For some time I hid behind the ring, feeling it offered me some sort of protection.
Well today, after months of thought about who I am searching for in this life, I decided to cease wearing the ring.
It was a hard decision. Not only has it become part of my being, [attached to me if you will] but it has provided comfort, security, laughs, and memories.
I'm not sure what I am going to wear in its place...I don't imagine anything else, could ever fit quite so well.
