This is the second in a 10 part series. To see the first, check my sig. C4C.

I frequently found myself twirling the gold band that has been resting on my left-hand finger for the past five years.

My finger has aged since the day I slipped that ring on. You can tell because my skin has grown thicker surrounding it. I'm not sure I would be able to get it off if I wanted to.

I wouldn't want to.

My daughter once asked me why I played with it so much. I said, “It's kinda like your blankey, someone special gave it to you and so you just never wanna let go of it.” I suppose that's partially true. But I didn't want to tell my daughter that it was also part disbelief. It was hard for me to believe someone as beautiful as my wife would want to spend every day of her (God-willing) long life with me.

Well, not every day. But that's what I get for marrying a writer. Sometimes she needs her space and at first I didn't understand, but I think I do now.

I mean, if she stayed home, she would only want to spend time with her daughter and I; she wouldn't be productive. Besides, these times away are good for me. Not that I need a break from her, but I think they allow me to love her in a deeper way.

You know that saying, “You only know what you've got until it's gone?” I think it's kind of like that. It's hard to take everything she does for granted when she's not there to do it.

One day my mom asked if I was nervous she would leave on one of these trips and not return.

I'm not.