Losing a 30-Year-Old Ring

A ring you’ve worn for about 30 years isn’t just jewelry. It’s more like a body part.

When I lost mine last week, it wasn’t like losing a watch or a wallet. Those are things you carry. The ring had become part of me. I’d put it on so long ago that I couldn’t remember doing it. It was simply there, a small weight on my finger that I was aware of only when something pressed against it.

After a few days of searching, I had to admit it was gone. And then something unexpected happened: I felt lighter. Not just physically. The ring had been a kind of anchor to who I was 30 years ago. Without it, I was slightly less tethered to the past.

I don’t know if this is good or bad. Maybe it’s both. The ring is gone, but so is the version of me that wore it. That seems fair, somehow. You can’t keep everything.