There literally is a ring around my finger. Actually two rings. Okay, scars in the shape of rings. The lighter one, more faded less noticeable, is from my engagement ring. It was on and off my finger over the years. Sometimes it was being sized up or down, once it lost a stone. I took it off last summer for good. It was my way of mentally making my private separation public, if only to me. Only my kids noticed it. I told them with my weight loss it was getting too big and I didn't want to lose it. Which was true. Kinda. I kept my very small, thin gold wedding band on. I hadn't ever had it off since 1987 and it seemed too weird. No one noticed it anyway.
Then in September, stuck in traffic, I was fidgeting with it. I took it off. I immediately noticed the indentation. I took the ring and put it in the ashtray of my car. I drove on. I met friends for happy hour. No one noticed. I kept absentmindly playing with my non-existant ring. No one noticed it was missing. I pointed it out to Rosemary on visit. She asked me what it meant. I told her that when we finally could seperate I didn't want a mark on my finger like I was a guy cheating at the Notell Motel on a Thursday afternoon. I expected the scar would fade quickly.
For awhile, I put cream on it from a sample I got at Sephora. Something that was supposed to fade dark spots and wrinkles. I was dedicated about it every night for at least a month and saw no change or improvement. I resented it. How the hell was I going to start a new life with this scarlet "r" encircling left hand ?
Now that I'm actually single, it's just there. It doesn't bother me as much. I don't really know what it says about me. I guess that I was once married. It probably says I was married for a long enough time to live a physical mark on my body.
It may never go away.
It may one day be covered by another ring.