I am not as reflective as I used to be. The place in my soul where my writing comes from is being used to be a listener, a lover, a mother and friend. These people are my poems and at the end of the day i am empty. I remember saying to a friend after grad school that my mind was tired and my body antsy. That I was eager to live the answers I had come to find.
Well, I got my wish but sometimes I miss this place. I hope to find a better balance.
I got a new wedding ring on Thursday. We found it in an antique market on Thanksgiving day. It is made of worn white gold that is cut into intricate detail and climbs up like the Eiffel tower. At the top there is a small diamond that lies flat but catches the light. It fits me perfectly, which is no small miracle considering my child sized fingers.
yesterday i made meatloaf. as i dipped my fingers into the raw meat and egg mixture, i paused. did i really want my new ring to touch this bloody mess? i took my engagement diamond off every time i washed my hands and cooked, not wanting to lose the shine. i looked down at this ring and noticed that it’s already gone. and then i thought of the woman who wore it before.
was she a mother? did she garden? did she do dishes and give baths in this ring? it did not come with papers or a story, but i have decided that yes, whoever owned this before, wore it through life. it added a touch of beauty to all the she did: grocery shopping, dishes that wore the hands thin, and gentle touches soothing bruised knees and hearts. as it added sparkle to her, she added dignity to it.
i dug my hands deeply into the meatloaf, feeling part of a legacy. making worn beauty.
this ring is a good expression of where i am right now. i could use a teeth whitening, a haircut, and a day to myself. i am worn but i am also beautiful. i have never felt so much a woman than being a mother to these two children. atticus plays with my hair while solomon nurses and i am living the answer that i found in grad school. love makes people beautiful. love is beauty worn.