Twenty-Year Rewards, Part One
This week is our twentieth wedding anniversary.
Neither of us can quite believe that it has been twenty years. At the same time, it feels like we were married yesterday and that we have been married forever. Really forever.
As part of self-congratulation week, we decided to treat ourselves to special gifts.
I went first. (naturally)
I decided I wanted an upgrade to my wedding band. My original wedding band has five very small diamonds. I wanted to keep the band for sentimental reasons; after all, my husband put that ring on my finger in Church, for God’s sake (literally, for God’s sake). But I could upgrade to bigger diamonds and that would look awesome with my engagement ring – which we awesomely upgraded already on our tenth anniversary.
I ducked out early from work. When we parked in front of my favorite jewelry store, my husband put a quarter in the parking meter. A quarter! That’s thirty minutes. I knew what I wanted, but the notion that I could look at jewelry and make a decision in a half-hour was just insanity. Of course, the store was only open for another hour, or he would have needed eleven quarters.
One hour barely gave me enough time to check out everything else in the store, which I absolutely had to do despite knowing what I wanted. I loved the sapphires, the pearls, all the mysterious and beautiful stuff in the estate case. I did the full circuit while negotiating for the wedding band. We got a great deal on a beautiful setting, offset slightly by the cost of the parking ticket.
Of course, the parking ticket wasn’t the only additional expense.
I had to leave my ring with the jeweler. He estimated that, given the Thanksgiving holiday, it would take two weeks to get the new setting and make the change.
But it’s my twentieth anniversary. I don’t want to be without my ring. I don’t consider myself superstitious. But I suddenly felt very queasy walking out that store without my wedding band. I felt horrible all evening. I had to have a ring.
I considered going to a pawn shop to pick up a wedding ring, but that doesn’t exactly fit with the whole superstitious thing. I mean, how did a wedding band get to a pawn shop anyway? I don’t want to wear someone else’s problems, even for two weeks.
So the next day I went to Wal-Mart and bought myself a gold (albeit plated) wedding band.
I figure I can pawn it when my newly-enhanced ring comes in.
Tomorrow: Part Two – HIS turn.