My hand in hers

My hand in hers

There’s an unaccustomed weight on my left hand.

This weekend Penny gave me a ring to complement the one that I gave her at the center of the labyrinth.

It’s a fantastic stainless steel ring that has the stylized pattern of a maze cut all the way thorugh it. It’s simple, yet classy, and my eye keeps being drawn to it. And I keep fidgeting with it, finding my fingers drawn to it.

It feels really good to wear a ring she gave me.

Neither of us is much for the traditional wedding ring. If I were to go off on the evils of diamonds and the DeBeers cartel, this post would run into the thousands of words. And aesthetically it didn’t have much of an appeal to either of us.

I gave Penny a poesy ring when I asked her to grow extremely old with me. According to the card that came with the ring, the tradition with poesy rings is that a silver one would be given at the engagement, and a gold one at the actual wedding. Probably a tradition manufactured by the makers of poesy rings that wouldn’t stand up to any serious scrutiny.

But still, it sounds good to us.

We’re planning on having a custom poesy ring made for her, and swap it for this placeholder ring at the ceremony. It’ll be similar, but not identical, to this one. We’ve been having a lot of fun playing around in photoshop and designing it.

Perhaps we’ll find something more permanent for me as well. Neither of us is too hung up on wearing a mortgage payment on our fingers, though. Each of these rings cost about as much as dinner for two, if you throw in dessert and drinks.

And the weight on my left hand makes me happy.

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