Cleaning My Ring.


After my husband’s last episode of doing things that hurt me, I found myself compulsively cleaning him. Every night after he came back home, I asked him if he’d like to take a shower together. We’d get in, and I’d scrub him from head to toe. It felt good to wash off all the deception, all the hurt. It felt like I might be able to shed a layer of skin that had been on him. I might be able to purify.

Next, I washed all his clothes. I had a good reason…our washer is broken, so I piled all his things into the car and dragged them off to the laundromat. I overloaded one of the huge washers, filled it with too much soap, and watched as the hot, hot water washed all the previous weeks away.

Last night, I was looking at my wedding ring. I wear it a lot, and I think I’ve never cleaned it before. It was a little tarnished, and some of the stones weren’t gleaming like they used to. I found a toothbrush and scrubbed it and scrubbed it. Today, it’s shining like it shined when it was new. It keeps catching my eye when I’m in the car, sending sparkles all around.

It’s a beautiful ring with a complicated story. My husband gave it to me a few months after we’d gotten married. He picked it out for me, and it suits his taste and mine. He gave it to me just a few days before I found syringes hidden in our house for the first time. He’s borrowed the money to get me the ring…borrowed a little from me, a little from his sister, and a little from various friends. He probably borrowed enough money to pay for it six times over. It used to make me angry, but then one day I realized that it was probably pretty hard for him to take the money to the jewelry store, pick out and purchase something beautiful for me when he was in the thick of his disease. He did.

Today, it’s shining on my hand, and I’m happy. No matter what else has happened or what might happen in the future, I’m happy today.

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  1. davka

    This is vulnerable and beautiful. Thank you for writing it.

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