My favourite moment


The woman at the store was covered in diamonds. Her hands put my mother’s ring-clad fingers to shame and she had pinned more than one glittering brooch to the lapels of her immaculate suit jacket. She presented the rings with an air of informative efficiency, friendliness at arms length. I was nervous putting them on. They glittered just so and the flashiness of them felt alien on my own almost bare fingers.

And then, there it was. Exactly what I was looking for. The diamonds set off the diamonds of my engagement ring and together, they sparkled like nothing else. It didn’t get lost on my finger like some I had tried, thin little wires of diamonds. But it didn’t overpower, either, stealing the show from my hands themselves.

It felt like a wedding band.

Now, it’s waiting for M, waiting for May 8, and the moment he slips it onto my finger. This symbol is more important than the wedding dress, more important than the chair covers, more important than the photographer or the cake or the place in which we hold the reception, or the dance, or the centerpieces on the tables or any of the other details.

With this symbol, I thee wed.

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