Driving home from work tonight, I found myself twirling my sweetheart ring on my finger alot. Just the other day, while I was at the check out lane waiting for the cashier to ring up our groceries, the bagger that was standing in front of me commented on the ring. "Oh, what a pretty ring you have. Is it new?" It's funny to me that someone would ask if this particular ring is new. This ring that I wear nearly every day, and have for years and years, is about forty years old. My father had given it to my mother before they got married.
As I twirled the ring on my finger on the way home, I wondered if my mother had ever done the same while she was driivng home, or any other time. It occurred to me, that when she wore this ring, she was just so very young. Not that I'd never realized this fact prior, but it really just hits home with me sometimes and usually at random moments such as this. Vanishing at the age of nineteen as she did, she just didn't have a chance... "She didn't even have a chance... She didn't even have a chance...." These words circled my head the rest of the way home.
Then... I had to chuckle to myself when my phone beeped and I looked down at the screen. It said "Chance." My son, Chance, had sent me a text message. "She just didn't have a chance," I heard in my head again, but this time I heard the addition of, "...but, I do."
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