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| The little things. |
| 07.27.06 (12:43 pm) [edit] |
I wear a hematite ring. It's black, shiny and simple. Just a band. It's my wedding ring. I got it at the Daughters of the Republic of Texas Museum for two dollars. I bought it with Devon. He got one too. We told the lady behind the counter they were for our wedding and she told us stories until we felt it wouldn't be a stretch to invite her. Three weeks later, Devon's ring broke while he was swatting at a mosquito. We giggled on the kitchen floor and howled over the fact that he had missed the mosquito.
I see big diamonds on the fingers of women around me. I smile and compliment them on such a fine jewel and they often crow about the details of it and how it came to rest on their finger. I never hear about their husbands, except when someone cracks the occassional joke about how far back it set them financially. They sometimes seem proud of this. I wonder what their husbands are like.
If we had a lot of money, I wonder if we would see the sense in spending it on more expensive jewelry. I wonder. Maybe there is a big difference between having a wealthy family and being independently wealthy. I've already figured out that the strings attached to family fortune aren't worth the advantage. If independently wealthy means being a glutton, I'm okay with not having much money. None of us are exempt from falling prey to poverty in a moment's notice.
It amuses me that a wedding without silk and satin, veils and music is an unthinkable thought in some. Just as absurd is wishing for simplicity, instead of creating it. Devon and I delight in our unceremonious ceremony and the life we've carved out together since then. We're enjoying pulling the clothesline in zig zags across the ten foot by eight foot, fenced in enclosure that is our back yard. We sleep in a low, wide bed in the dining room, our walls are lightweight burgandy curtains that blow with a good breeze coming through the windows. We play dice games and board games. We wrestle on the bed and laugh loudly. We fuss at each other, argue, bicker and discuss.
I can't imagine that a bigger house or richer food would somehow make us happier.
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| 57 Comments |
