• A middle-aged man sat one day (as he often did on Sundays) and wrote to his kin and those dear to him, detailing his latest discoveries and giving them news about his life, no matter how mundane. His graying hair did not deter his hand from swiftly moving across the parchment, carrying his pen and its ink to the page. On any other day, the quill, ink, and parchment would have spoken his words fluently; however, today was not a normal day. It was an anniversary. He and his wife’s marriage anniversary to be precise: divorced ten years come 3 o’ clock that afternoon. Yes, they had loved. And yes, the two former lovers had shared many wonderful memories together, yet somewhere along the line of their lives, they had fallen from each other’s grace (not in the most graceful manner either, mind you).

    Today was their anniversary and the man’s wedding band decided it was high time that it have some of its questions answered. The ring squeezed firmly on the man’s finger, halting his pen’s scribbling abruptly. Looking down, the man considered the ring for a moment as it began to speak.

    “Man,” it began, “why do you still wear me? You and your wife have long since been parted.”

    Curious.

    The man reckoned this was a strange thing of a ring to do, asking questions and all, but he felt it would be better to answer it than argue.

    “Ring, I wear you because you compliment me. You are a very well-crafted and charming band, and I like you very much.”

    Now, the ring considered the reply for a moment, but began to feel betrayed. Was this its only purpose? To look beautiful for the sake of another? Surely there must be more to its creation than that! It was crafted for marriage: to symbolize the bond between two souls.
    What use was it now that this was over?

    The ring spoke again, this time much firmer. “But man, is that all? Am I only to enhance your appearance? What about my own beauty and wants?”

    This seemed like a reasonable place to end speaking, yet the ring continued on.
    “I was created specifically for you. My purpose was to represent the bond between you and your wife! What am I without that?”

    Smiling, the man answered with a calm tone and steady voice, “What is a ring without a wearer? You may be beautiful in a shop window, but you are without a soul there. Man is made to create. To violate this is to lose one’s right at humanity and having a heaven-sent soul. Rings are made to be worn. If a ring is not worn, it loses its purpose and its right to be a ring. It reverts to a trinket of gold, as a man would become moving flesh.”

    Seeing the ring listening intently and feeling it loosen slightly on his finger, the man continued, hoping to placate it.

    “Yes, you were created to symbolize the union between my wife and I, and that is what you still do.”

    To the ring, this seemed an acceptable answer, yet a nagging in its very core pressed it to continue. It was a sturdy ring, well-crafted and well-sold. How could it accept such a simple answer without knowing more?

    “I suppose I understand what you mean. Your hand is my reason for existence, just as I am the reason for the existence of the one who crafted me. Excuse me, though… I have more to ask.”

    Chuckling, the man gave a simple, “Go on,” and urged the ring to continue.

    “I remind you of your wife, so how can you wear me? She left you for another! She took a fair sum of your money and what she felt was her’s of your property! Does it not hurt you to look at me and know that my sister ring is sitting in a lonely jewelry box, while she has let her knew love provide her with a replacement?”

    At this the man fell silent. He needed to be careful of the rings he chose in the future, for this one was quite clever. Giving a thoughtful glance towards the frosted window, he let his mind slip away to where the ring’s answer lurked, awaiting the man to ask the right question.

    “Ring… It matters not that she left. We all have our destinies and everything has its time, whether we know it or not.”

    He sighed, not knowing if the ring would accept this answer, though it was true.

    “The only thing that matters now is that she and I had each other at all. You see, we may have parted ways, but such distance cannot stop love. Such pain cannot silence beauty. I do not see the ills she has committed in my memory when I look at you. All I see is the time we spent together, and through you, I live it every day.”

    For the first time in its existence, the ring understood love. It knew its purpose. And it shone and glimmered brighter than it had before.

    However, it had one last question for the man before it resigned itself to being a silent piece of gold once again.

    “Sir… I think I know now why you stare at me in the candlelight at night. In me you see your wife. You see everything that once was and through me and the memories I bring, those things always are. Love is infinite. Once you have loved someone, you never truly stop. Though the time allotted for that love may end, love will never disappear while you can still remember that person. So, I guess I have just one last question, if you don’t mind.”

    The man, seeing that the ring understood his heart, nodded in approval.

    “Is it worth it? Knowing that you can never truly relive the past? Seeing that there can never be a future? Resigning yourself to memories?”

    The man turned the ring on his finger, basking in its beauty before he whispered to it what it sought.

    “Yes. Because love and memories are infinite and eternal much like gold. No matter how tarnished, gold can always be polished and brought back to life, giving it a purpose. It shimmers and makes those who have it smile, and those who do not, envious, until they find their own rings to wear. Love is love. It is meant to be relished in and remembered, no matter how painful, just as a ring is meant to be worn, no matter how tarnished it becomes.”
    The ring interrupted the man, finishing the man’s words in the language they now shared,

    “And man is meant to create, no matter how much he sweats and bleeds in the process. Because in the end, he has given life to something that could not have existed before. And that is love.”

    So the ring loosened, allowing the man to finish his letter to his ex-wife’s husband, who, no doubt now stood by her side, weeping as he placed flowers at her head. The man shed a single tear as he signed his letter. Not for his sorrow at her passing, but for his joy that she had lived at all.