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It was my grandmother's ring, my grandpa got it for her in 1945 when she was 19 years old. Her hair changed, her clothes, her weight but one thing that absolutely never changed was the placement of that reminder on her hand. It symbolized the commitment she made when she was just a young woman, the choice to devote herself to someone and make the conscious decision every day to nurture that union. My grandpa passed away before I was born but I have his name, I inherited his role as my grandma's favorite, and when she passed, that ring.
I had been secretly measuring your finger, trying not to ask directly. I would hold your hand and close my eyes while I compared the circumference of your ring finger to mine. Once while you were asleep I tried to use the wrapper from a straw to determine the exact size but you woke up. I borrowed one of your rings another time, I figured out the size and then when I made a subtle reference to that ring you told me it was too small. Maybe I wasn't meant to find out.
I have owned it for 12 years and I never even imagined another woman wearing it. I wanted you to bless me with the chance to glance over and see it shining in the sun again. I wanted it's illustrious beauty to pale in comparison to the woman wearing it, like it did my whole childhood. It isn't enormous, it isn't worth a fortune but it was the most important thing to the most important woman in my life before I met you.
You are the rightful owner, the betrothed recipient, I love you.
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