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The Wedding Ring

I knew it needed to be done. I procrastinated. I pretended it was fine.


Until a tiny diamond chip from my nana’s wedding band, which I wear sandwiched between my own engagement and wedding bands, went missing. Into the jeweler I went.


While there, I finally did something that I have put off for almost a decade: ensure Foxy’s wedding ring was also in good shape. Everyday for 9 years, since mom passed, I have worn her wedding ring on my right hand. Haven’t had it cleaned nor checked for fear of being without it.


My mom’s wedding ring is a tangible, a concrete recognition that she is still walking with me, even though physically, she has crossed. And honestly, I just don't want her to miss a thing. I know it sounds crazy. Welcome to my life.


Just a few repairs needed. 60 plus years will do that. My hand feels naked right now.


If you ever feel some sort of way about something, I see you. Also, writing about it helps.

Love, Foxy and Me


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