“Oh.”
We both began laughing.
Then crying.
The saleswoman quietly brought us tissues.
—
Mark continued working on his vows.
He’d originally written nine drafts.
Then eleven.
Then even more.
One evening, I asked why he kept changing them.
He looked at me.
“Sometimes I read what I wrote, and I can’t remember writing it.”
My chest tightened.
“But then I read it again, and I think, whoever wrote this must really love his wife.”
He gave a sad smile.
“And then I remember that man is me.”
I took his hand.
He continued.
“So I keep adding things. Every time I remember something important, I write it down.”
He glanced toward the papers on the bedside table.
“I want it all there. While I still can.”
I kissed
him.
And didn’t ask to read another word.
—
The new ring was ready September fourteenth.
Dave drove Mark to Birch Falls to collect it.
Mark wouldn’t let me see it.
“Wedding tradition,” he declared.
“I’m fairly sure the tradition is about the dress.”
“I’m creating a new one.”
That evening, I found him sitting on our bed.
He was holding the little wooden box with the carved pine tree.
Inside lay his original wedding ring.
The one the doctors had cut off twelve years earlier.
He turned it slowly in his fingers.
“Do you remember what your dad said at our wedding?”
I sat beside him.
“He gave about twenty minutes of advice. Which part?”
Mark smiled.
“The part about the ring.”
I thought for a moment.
He continued.
“Your father said a wedding ring is a circle. No beginning. No ending.”
He looked at the scratched gold band.
“He
said love is supposed to be like that.”
My throat tightened.
“I’d forgotten.”
Mark smiled sadly.
“Funny, isn’t it? I can’t remember what I ate for lunch yesterday. But I remember that.”
He closed the box.
“Someday, I want Sophie to have this ring.”
I nodded.
“She would love that.”
“I wrote it down.”
He pointed toward the whiteboard in our bedroom.
Among the medication reminders and telephone numbers was a fresh note.
Old ring → Sophie. Someday.
I stared at the words.
Then looked back at him.
He smiled.
“Just in case.”
—
September twentieth arrived.
We drove to Loon Lake the afternoon before.
Sophie drove.
I sat in the passenger seat.
Mark occupied the back seat with the cooler, complaining that he was perfectly capable of driving.
