The Ring I Never Take Off

The oldest thing I’m wearing today is my wedding ring.

It’s been nearly 39 years since I first slipped it on—a simple gold band with a bevelled edge, unchanged by time, though life has changed around it many times over. New homes, different cities, changing routines. We’ve faced health scares, taken long-awaited holidays, chased goals we set together, and stood steady through major shifts. The ring has been there through it all. A quiet witness.

It fits just as it always has, though I carry a little more weight now. I’ve never had it resized, never needed to. It’s become so much a part of me I hardly notice it—until the one time I couldn’t find it.

We were away, house-sitting for friends, and I’d taken it off before bed—something I rarely do. In the morning, it was gone. I searched the floor, under the bed, behind furniture. Nothing. I was exhausted after a full week and just didn’t have it in me to keep looking. I needed time out. I told myself I’d come back to it later. And if we couldn’t find it, well—maybe I’d get another one. Not to replace the meaning, just the metal.

But she wasn’t ready to give up. She kept looking—resolute, focused, undeterred. And eventually, she found it.

There’s probably a metaphor in that.

Since then, I’ve never slept without it on. I always know where it is.

A wedding ring is often called a symbol of love and commitment. But this one carries more. It carries shared history. Not just the promises we made on our wedding day, but the ones we’ve made since. The ones that came quietly, over cups of tea, in hospital waiting rooms, or while booking tickets for the next adventure. The ring reminds me of those things—not with drama, but with presence.

It isn’t just about love as feeling, but love as a practice. Love that stays. Love that’s willing to look again, even when tired. Love that builds a life across years, across moments, across seasons.

And for me, that’s what this ring means: not just that I was once chosen, but that I’ve been chosen—still—through everything.

Still Fitting

A simple ring—
gold, bevelled,
unremarkable
to anyone but me.

It has stayed
through moves,
health scares,
shared goals,
quiet joys.

I lost it once,
too tired to continue the search.
She wasn’t.
She searched
until it was found.

Since then,
I keep it close.
Even in sleep.

It isn’t just a ring—
it’s the shape
of choosing,
again and again.