It’s no secret I am a bit of a sap. When we packed away the many keepsakes from our wedding I was careful not to put them all in to a box. A box we’d not see again until we sold our house or Emily had a hankering to take a nostalgic walk with me. All too often we box up our most precious things to “keep them safe.” I contend we should use them. Touch them. Let them remind us of the days long gone.
Our ringbearer carried our wedding rings on a little plate. A plate that says “With This Ring.” (Purchased on Etsy from Paloma’s Nest!) I’d considered framing it in a shadow box, but instead decided to slide it in to the box of Christmas ornaments. Every year we could take it from it’s little box and I could tell the story of how this was the bowl that held our rings before we were married, just days before (or after!) Baby D was conceived. We would hang it on the tree and smile at one another. Sneak a kiss amidst eye rolls and ewww’s from the kids. (I had this all planned out, I am both a sap and a planner.)
This year we opened the big box of ornaments and it was on top. Em carefully removed the box and said “Mom, you should do this one” just as MQD said “Be careful with that one.” I carried it in to the kitchen to shorten the long red strings we had used to tie our rings to it. This was when my plan started to go awry.
I dropped it on the floor in the kitchen. And fell to my knees as though Lee Harvey Oswald had shot it from my hands. Stunned. Sobbing. Em rounded the corner and began to cry hysterically. MQD followed, fully expecting to see a dead animal, I am certain. One we own.
Four, maybe five seconds, I cried. And then I stood up. And pulled my shit together. This was not a sign. Our marriage did not crumble on the floor in the kitchen. We are tougher than a ceramic plate. And we have Liquid Nails. I might have cried a teeny bit more as I got the glue out from the laundry room cabinets, behind the door. Where Em couldn’t see, my face tucked in to MQD’s neck. I think I said something profound and explanatory. Something like “I am so fucking sentimental.” And then I got to gluing.
Next year when we take this little ceramic bowl out from its box, there will be two stories. The one about how this little bowl held our wedding rings. We will still sneak a kiss and smile. And then the three of us, Em, MQD and I will look at the baby and I will say “I dropped this bowl on the floor the Christmas I was pregnant with you. I was all butterfingers and bat shit crazy.”
Marriages and families and even keepsakes are just one story piled on top of another. Some good, some not so good. But it’s a great book. So you just keep on reading.
The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It’s full of charts and facts and figures
And instructions for dancing
I love it when you read to me
You can read me anything.