Hindsight

As we rode the elevator to the top of the Stratosphere, I slid my hand into the pocket of my black slacks and jingled the rings about. Then I slipped them on- both of them on my ring finger. I grinned when it dawned on me that happy coincidence allowed it to be my left hand. We took our seats at a table beside the floor-to-ceiling windows and ordered lunch. The Las Vegas Strip snaked its way across the city hundreds of feet below us. We picked out our hotel from our arial vantage point, and then as the restaurant continued its revolution, the mountains, the suburbs, The Pawn Stars shop. Our meal was delectable. The view, spectacular. I felt for the rings again, as if to make sure they were still there.

It had been a long time since either of us wore our wedding rings. I'd outgrown mine about 3 years into our marriage and back then, the small expense of having them resized was out of the question. Besides- doing so would be a sign of planning to keep the weight on forever, and I never intended to do that. A few years later, he dislocated his finger playing football and managed to rip the ring off before the swelling made it impossible. After the finger healed, the knuckle was misshapen, and the ring wouldn't slip over it. Not wearing rings wasn't a big deal to us. It bothered me a little bit, because the romantic side of me liked the symbolism. But the practical side of me knew that the rings didn't qualify our marriage as real anymore than our lack of rings indicated that it wasn't. And besides- neither of us were big jewelry people. We'd purchased the least expensive rings available- partly because we were poor, but also because we're just practical, frugal people.

But things had changed. We were celebrating our 20th anniversary. Three years prior, he'd fallen in love with another woman. It nearly destroyed me, but we weathered the storm and managed to come out of it without casualty. It had been a hard two years of putting it behind us and trying to move forward. There had been a lot of broken promises during that process, and I was still trying to heal. I decided a month earlier to buy new rings for us- to illustrate to him that I was still committed to him, that I believed in him. I wanted to start our second decade together with a renewed commitment. I bought costume jewelry, knowing he'd hate for me to spend much. But I chose carefully. My ring was silver with a 1/2-carat sized round-cut "diamond" solitaire. The band featured tiny pieces of cut glass on either side of the setting. I thought it was gorgeous. His ring was a simple silver band with the words "Man of God" etched into it. It was my way of saying "I trust you again". It would also serve as a reminder to him of whose He was.

I had planned to present the rings at our anniversary dinner at the top of the Stratosphere. I knew what I would say. It would be a simple and intimate renewal of the vows we'd made in college- just the two of us and God. But as I fingered them in my pocket, it just didn't feel right. I decided it was because there were too many people around. Hours later, after watching the sun set over the mountains and seeing the Strip wake up with twinkling lights in the shadow left behind, I knew it was time. I pulled the rings out of my pocket and closed my fist around them. I sat down beside him on the hotel room bed, where he'd already logged on to his laptop. "Look at me," I said softly, with a smile and a hint of the giddiness I'd felt on the elevator earlier. He glanced up.

"I got you a present," I said. That got his attention and he looked at me expectantly. I opened my hand to reveal the two rings.

"I want us to renew our vows tonight," I continued. "I want to show you that I'm in this for the long haul, because I love you. I need you to know that I trust you and believe in you. And I want us to start wearing rings again." I started to place the ring on his finger, but he stopped me. He took the ring in his hand and looked at it.

"I won't wear this," he said.

"What? Really? Why?" I asked.

"I don't really like it," he answered.

"You don't like the ring? Do you not like that it has words on it?"

"I don't like the style."

"It's just a simple band, like your other one."

"No, it's thicker than my other one. I don't like it."

I showed him mine. He said it wasn't anything he would've picked for me. And that was that. He turned his attention back to his laptop, and I died a little more inside.