Anniversary celebrated; divorce postponed

Husband and I were married ten years ago at the ripe ages of 41 and 36, respectively. And thank goodness for the institution of divorce, or I'd probably be single still. A case of engagement cold feet was cured for me when a coworker pointed out to me "If it doesn't work, you can always get divorced." Alrighty, then! Maybe it was because I waiting so long to get married that I was particularly attached to the "options always open, anything possible" frame of mind. Maybe it's that I was marrying someone who did not exactly fit the picture of spouse I had carried for so long. (I dated a bunch of those pictures, some for quite a while; they didn't work out.) At any rate, I hurled myself into marriage feeling free, not bound. Free to embark on new adventures and free to relax into some relationship security. But also free to walk away if I needed to. Because in my mind, there's no point or joy in staying if it's because you have to.

Obviously I'm still here, and we've enjoyed laughing about my divorce fantasies: "So, do you want a divorce now?" "No, maybe later." "Would you like a divorce with that?" "Hmm. That might be nice. Let me get back to you."

And I think Husband was entertaining a divorce fantasy of his own when a year ago I suffered from a small spell of jewelry lust. I'm not really a jewelry person. In my ears I wear a pair of diamond studs that Husband gave me for our fifth anniversary. Around my neck I wear a silver chain with a locket holding Sophie's picture. My engagement ring is a platinum band with channel set (really teeny) diamond, and my wedding band is a plain platinum one. That's it, every day. It's not that I don't like jewelry; I love pieces I see on other people. It's more that it's part of accessorizing in general, which I'm too lame to handle. If I've got on underwear, clothes, and shoes, I think I'm doing pretty well. Jewelry, scarves, belts, and the like are just too much for me.

But a girlfriend of mine planted the idea of a more significant ring in my mind when she received a diamond engagement-type ring from her husband for an anniversary. How wonderful for her, I thought. Soon after, Sophie and I were window shopping down on Fourth Street, and I saw in the window a ring that I thought might be wonderful for me. So we went in and both tried it on. Just for yucks. When I floated the idea of an anniversary ring past Husband, he glared at me and observed, "You don't even wear jewelry." But Sophie and I made a habit out of visiting "my ring" from time to time. Then one day we went in to find they had swapped out the diamond for an aquamarine. Quite lovely and much more affordable. I floated the idea past Husband again. Again, no dice. And the next time Sophie and I went to visit the ring, the salesperson told us another couple had bought it. End of the ring visits.

Fast forward to last Friday night. Our anniversary is this Friday, and we have reservations to go to one of our favorite restaurants on Saturday. Husband insisted on taking Sophie and I out to our favorite tacqueria so we could "celebrate our anniversary as a family."

What a nice idea, and how exciting that Husband's favorite special, tamales, was on the menu that night.

But I noticed something was up with Sophie. We got our food, sat down, and she started tapping her fork on my beer glass. She had an announcement. She stood up and very formally began her speech, which she had obviously rehearsed: "Remember when we went to the jewelry store and the lady said another couple had bought your ring? Well, that other couple is sitting right here. It was Daddy and me."

She handed me a box.


My ring.

Really, our ring.

My husband. My daughter. My family. Ten good years, with more to come.