I took my wedding ring off the other night.

It’s a simple platinum band with the question “Pie?” on one interior side and the answer “Yes.” on the other.

Heather put it on my wedding finger on May 14, 2005.

I’ve taken it off here and there — once for an X-ray machine thing, once because, well, I can’t remember — but it’s been on my hand almost continuously since.

I’ve never really think much about it when it happens. It comes off and goes back on so quickly.

But last night, there was an itch so I decided to take it off and give myself a scratch.

It was hard to get off. I had to really work it over my knuckle with a slow twist and pull.

it was clear my body and my life had grown literally around the promise and commitment it represented.

The impression that had been created by years of wearing it was deep and noticeable, something that woudl take some time to disappear if it were not on my hand every day..

And it did not seem free or lighter with its absence, but more like my hand was missing something.

Not something weighty, but something important and true — and comfortable.

Something I would not know if Heather had not said yes at top of the Beekman in New York so long ago, or stuck with me through all my foolish words and actions.

Something I would not know if I hadn’t trusted myself to ask her and opened myself up to sharing everything with another, even the dark and ugly parts that I could barely look at myself.

I could’ve waited until May 14 of this year to celebrate all that has been good that this space made by the ring represented, but that seemed like a long time.

And so I got up and kissed my beautiful freckled red-headed wife in the chair where she sat watching a TV show neither of us will remember tomorrow.