It's not unusual for me to find Fonzy's wedding ring laying around. On this particular day, it was sitting on the counter in the kitchen. When I saw it there it bought me back to that cold February day when we were married. After all we had been through, the love, the fights, the moves, we were finally ready to make that commitment. To pledge our love "to death do us part." I thought about how I put the ring on the wrong hand. We didn't even realize it until someone bought it up after the ceremony. But that ring there, that's not even the ring I originally put on his finger. He lost THAT ring a few weeks after we were married. I remember being so mad that he lost what was a symbol of our love. A symbol that showed he belonged to me. I was so mad that he didn't wear his ring all the time, like I did. Since Fonzy put the rings on my finger, I've never taken them off. But to Fonzy, it wasn't such a big deal. He told me he didn't need to wear a ring to prove he loved me or show the world he belonged to me. He showed it in his actions everyday. And you know what, he does. In the simple, everyday things he shows me. So now when I see his ring laying around, I don't get mad. And if he were to lose it, we would probably just buy number 3 and keep it moving, because really, it's just a ring and in no way effects our love.
