here’s to that time

here’s to that time

I set my wedding ring down

on the most noticeable spot

I could think of —

the edge of the roof of the car

parked in our garage,

sunlight glinting off it

via that building’s south-facing two-pane window,

as well as some afternoon light

still flowing through the east-facing open garage door—

and then lost it not long after

thanks to a spectacularly absentminded mistake.

it all came down to the fact

that I was being careful of it,

yet was blind to it later

when it was right in front of me

because life’s urgency distracted me,

as can happen with love itself.

I didn’t want the ring damaged

or getting caught on anything

as I did yard work,

which on this day was one of the phases

of my ultimately successful, two-year effort

to eradicate japanese knotweed

from the narrow side yard

between the north side of the garage

and the chain link fence

separating us from the weedy rental house next door.

after cutting those invasive plants

and spraying round-up into their hollow stumps to no avail,

I switched to first wheelbarrowing out of there

all the wash rocks the previous owners

had strewn across that long strip;

then digging so far down

that I could pull up each plant’s root boll,

which I took en masse to the dump,

along with all the bits of glass

and rusted chunks of metal I dug up;

then laying down overlapping cardboard

with new dirt layered thick on top of that

to accommodate all the quick-growing, shade-loving plants —

ferns and wandering thyme and so on —

that I staggered all the way

from the driveway end to the edge of the back lawn.

whatever stage of that process I was at,

an hour or two later

I went into the kitchen to wash up and drink lots of water

and that’s what I was doing

when my wife asked

if I could get us all takeout for dinner,

which appealed to me too,

so once I’d put away whatever tools I’d used,

I got in our prius and drove down to ramblin jack’s

and returned with our family’s usual order,

a cowgirl salad and a joni loves chachi pizza,

but before I could sit down to eat with her and our kids, though,

I somehow remembered my wedding ring.

I immediately went to look for it on the floor of the garage,

but it was nowhere to be found,

so with worried thoughts of someone out there

finding and keeping it hounding me,

I hopped on my bike and retraced the route I had just driven,

going slow enough to scour the road ahead with my gaze,

paying special attention to the gravel and base of the curb

off to the side of the asphalt’s subtle slope,

but after reaching the parking space by the restaurant I’d used

and then slowly peddling uphill back home,

I still hadn’t found it

and I resigned myself to a new phase of life

where I would still be married,

yet what had once helped seal that vow

would be out there in the world

consecrating something else,

which I could only consider sacred myself

if I allowed that it could equally apply

to any square foot of ground or individual in the community.

but we forget, don’t we,

that that’s the whole point

of giving a permanent relationship

the very public stamp of approval of a wedding:

to pass along the magic of good fortune and hope

exemplified by the couple

to all those in the context surrounding them

and to the broader context beyond that too.

we had no trouble ordering a replacement ring for me,

because the local jewelers

who had made the first one

still had that design on file:

a thick yellow gold band

with some faint white gold lines and dots

across the middle.

I think the inside of the first one

had had the inscription

”our love is a garden,”

but for the second one we gave a humorous nod

to what had happened that afternoon

I had rushed off after doing yard work:

”this love can’t be lost.”

for years after my marriage ended,

I kept that ring in the smallest pocket of my backpack,

not wanting to either sell it for cash or just throw it away,

yet also not sure what the protocol is

for an item so personal whose purpose is long gone.

one day, when I was talking to my kids about this,

my son said he would take it,

so now that ring will play a part

in his own unfolding future.

I’m realizing, though, that it never stopped

fulfilling its original promise,

not just because spreading goodwill in the community

has become more and more important to me,

but also because of the fact that

my ex-wife has remained a close part of my life

this whole time.

certainly, this is thanks to our kids,

custody of whom we share equally,

but nonetheless I appreciate the fact

that over the tumultuous last four and a half years —

as subsequent relationships have come and gone,

and I’ve also moved from house to house, and job to job —

I have had her as one of the few consistent presences in my life.

here is to things lost, and their replacements,

and the supportive reframing of their meaning

we can arrive at with the passage of time.