The Ring

“Hey, there.” I always appreciate our little talks. I get a warm smile in return.

“So, I finally found the one,” I say, proudly.
“I know—you kept asking when I’d stop fooling around and just do it.”
“You always knew, didn’t you? Way before I did.”
This was met with a subtle but approving nod.

Over the years, you gave the best advice—never pushing, always believing.
You saw the best in me, even when I could not.
Thank you for being a picture of what a good marriage can mean.

Remember, I told you about the time we first met? We hit it off, thick as thieves. On our first date, we talked for hours. Since then, we’ve been practically inseparable, spending every moment together: laughing, crying, just being there for each other. I can finally say that I am happy.

I reach for the shelf, brushing the dust away. There it is—nestled in the velvet pouch—just waiting, like you said it would. Holding up the family ring before my eyes, it catches the light just right—as if excited to sparkle again. I quietly slip it into my pocket, asking it to wait a bit longer. I am excited too.

One last glance toward the quiet photo and a loving nod. “I miss you.” Then, with a steady breath and heart wide open, I turn and walk away—to ask the one I love to be with me, forever.