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Last week when we got married we gave each other matching gold rings. We had them made by a Pacific Northwest Native American artist in Vancouver. On them is engraved “Raven Stealing the Light”. I am thrilled to have it of course, but it frightens the dickens out of me as I may lose it. This fear is not unfounded. I tend to lose everything in time. I’ve had several rings in my life and they all have disappeared. Someone is quite severe with me about this; I am to mind my ring’s whereabouts. They were quite expensive and would not be easily replaced.
A week later it is still around. So far so good.
I have always worn a hematite ring on my left hand, so wearing a ring is old hat. Ironically it is Someone who is having troubles keeping it on (he’s worn a ring for awhile but on the right hand rather). Today he misplaced his for an hour but I said nothing.
I suppose I could keep it on 24-7 but I find I don’t like to shower with it on, lest the soapy water loosen it from my person. I take it off at night and I always place it in the shallow ring bowl on the dresser.
I went to the gym to lift weights. Fearing it would be scratched or marred from handing the barbells, I took it off and put it in the zipped pocket pouch of my gym bag. I was rather nervous to do so; after a week it felt odd to be without it.
Today I discovered my golden band has writing on the inside. I suspect it is the signature of the goldsmith but I wonder if the fine script is Haida for “One ring to rule them all” or something sinister. Perhaps it wants to slip off my finger and find its way back to Vancouver. It’s a morbid thought but it could happen. Funny how my golden ring doesn’t conjure up emotions of wedded bliss so much as visions of Mordor.