i felt like writing, so i did.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, unrestrained... a thing they haven't done as much this past year... & i will post it... a seemingly fluff post... a love note, a bellowing moment of adoration for marriage.
But before i do... i'll post this, a gentle opener before the bullhorn:
Neil & i sneak into the seniors home to peek at our girl playing violin. She stands taller than me in her flats & pleated tartan skirt. She pulls her hair back and ties it with a ribbon and her sweet softy smile flashes from the stage as she finds me grinning back at her; her toe taps & her hips sway.
Neil sinks into a plush arm chair out of her sight, & i let my gaze meander around the cheerful little room full of wheelchairs, walkers, oxygen tanks and grey hair.
One tiny woman catches my eye - and i watch her smiling at the children who are performing with verve and skill.
Then she wrings her bent little hands.
They're twisted with arthritis; massive swollen bones with hardly any flesh to pad them. Her dainty blue veins colour them as she gently rubs one with the other, and then her fingers grope in familiarity the thin gold bands that adorn her left hand.
As she does so, my fingers suddenly fly to find my golden bands; circling the same finger on my left hand.
& i don't know her story. i don't know where the man is who placed those rings there, or how many years ago the vows were spoken...
But i know that in 16 years, my rings have worn away the flesh around my ring finger - the symbol that i wear of the commitment i made has made a mark on my physical body. My body has worn, and the stretch marks on my stomach bear witness to the family that we've grown...
Her gesture is hardly one to be noticed - but i do notice... the way her fingers linger on rings that are so worn, the gold has thinned to threadlike proportions in some places. i watch as she tenderly twists the bands that i imagine have been there for decades - i doubt they could be removed now... even if she wanted to remove them over joints bent with arthritis and age...
And i glance at Neil - catching his dancing hazel eyes & he grins at me. His smile still makes my stomach flip flop - & as i twist my ring, i can't help but hope that one day - when we're old... and our hands are creased and worn and tired - we'll still wear our gold bands - & in familiarity, we'll reach for, find and caress the aching hands of the one we love.