On the Outside Looking In

There is an old Mary Chapin Carpenter song that always made me sad to listen to when I was single. She sings, "I see them walking hand in hand and my eyes stop to linger on those golden wedding bands wrapped around their fingers. I'm standing on the borderline, outside looking in." I was a happy and satisfied single woman, though I sometimes longed for the connection of someone to love and that feeling of being half of a whole.

I had that connection for nine years and I loved it. But I am suddenly alone again and I feel a bit untethered. Today I went grocery shopping and I swear that every person in the store had a ring on their finger. As I filled my cart with food to feed my son and I for the next week, I was profoundly aware that my finger is now empty. I used to wear two rings on my left hand. One was given to me in August of 1997, a lovely antique engagement ring, an unexpected gift from Lisa on a summer evening. I received the second ring in February of 2000, a band of diamonds and sapphires that was given to me after I had our baby. I wore them with pride and a feeling of security. I loved the way they made me feel.

Last Tuesday night I took off those precious rings for the last time and placed them deep in my nightstand drawer. I have other rings to wear of course. But it's not quite the same. All of a sudden I am on the outside looking in.