Friday, September 25, 2015

Tan lines.

I lost my ring.  My favorite, favorite. Even more favorite than the marriage bands, which I have incorporated into my bones. . . but this ring?  I didn't realize how proud I was of it, how much the thing of beauty on my hand had become part of an inner-identity.  Purchased when we were freshly married, it was an astonishment to have on my finger, a plainly beautiful silver ring with unsparkling stones and a creativity of design which garnered compliments from strangers. A touchstone, and now an empty spot that i find surprisingly empty multiple times per day.  In the fall chill, it simply slipped off my bony digits.
It makes me think of so many things;  How plainly I was moved to this, this joining of two human beings... how I stepped so straightly, so solidly forward into a great matrimony.  How clearly it was the right thing to be done, for the world and for our love.
How little I feel able to incorporate hope with its eviltwin fear.  I walk about the house, turning things over... could it be in the compost pile?  maybe its under that sock i moved last week... maybe i inadvertently dropped it in the salvation army bag... should i look? is it in the broiler? When I go to soccer practice again do i search where i was sitting last? do i stop this? will i be looking forever in my house with hope and fear?
It IS just a thing, and it is more, all at once.  Symbols are what they are, and less, and more.
And I am yearning so, for Hope. yearning, keening, wishing, leaning.  and it is hard, very hard, to yearn for something when the scarecrow flap of fear is so constantly partnered with it.  It would seem to make sense to turn away, to stop the movie, neglect to check the basement...
but what if hope is down there?  how can you face your life if you stop looking for it?


MotherOfGooses said...

Always partnered in our searching, fear and hope.