We'd been married about seven years, I guess. I don't recall any itches, yours or mine. Dates and numbers weren't so much our thing; we've established that, haven't we?
Friends who'd married around the same time—all of the Joneses—were doing that circle of diamonds one adds to one's wedding ring. We had never even seen the point of a separate wedding band. Just one ring sat on my finger. Just one diamond. More than enough.
A circle of diamonds felt useless.
I asked you if I could have patio furniture instead of diamonds. A round table and four chairs felt right. We loaded it into the back of your new truck, trying our best not to scratch its paint. We brought it home and set it up in the backyard.
A circle of diamonds felt unnecessary.
We still sit at that table. We gather. We laugh. We eat and drink. And I remember.
Friends, family, children all come and go from that patio furniture. Parties, dinners, games played at that table.
A circle of diamonds would have been silly.