Two years ago I wrote a blog, On Feeling Naked…, that revealed more of me than I really wanted to. A lot has happened since. This post, is a bit of a continuation on a tradition that I started back then. It won’t deal with travel, as most of you are used to from me, and neither will it have photos that may delight or appeal. It won’t be long, or at least I don’t mean it for it to be so. It’s a bit of a stream of consciousness so I perfectly understand if you – just about now – decide to leave.
I twist it around my finger. It is loose. I slowly, very slowly start sliding it off. My movement is fluid but comes to an abrupt halt as it reaches the nail bed. I twist the band once again, close my eyes and, in one swift move, slide it into my right hand gripping it and surrounding it. Three years ago my movements were reversed and I was sliding my mom’s wedding band on. It took me almost two years to be able to take it off. I lost track of where it was after that and assumed I lost it. In the first days of January of this year it surfaced unexpectedly. I took it as a sign and decided that I would wear the simple gold band the first two months of the year as a tribute to the union that gave birth to me and made me who I am. Both my parents passed in 2010. My mom in January and my father in February. Today, the last day of February, it is time to take it off once again.
I hate goodbyes. Looking back a few years, it seems that I have been bidding farewell to so very much. To places. To life as I know it. To sentimental bonds. Every one of those separations, be they physical or emotional has brought me a greeting of some sort that has made me happy, changed me and enriched me but I still am not fond of them.
The band is still ensconced in my hand. I open my fist and am certain that I will not wear it again. This time I must really let go. The song from Disney’s Frozen, Let It Go, comes to mind and am grateful that it does,: for one line says: “Let it go, let it go and I’ll rise like the break of dawn…”