It was two days after Thanksgiving when my soon-to-be ex-wife let me know she was not coming back… and, for some reason, thought it was necessary to spray me with a blast of invective. At that moment, I took off my wedding ring, and flung it into the nether reaches of the PT Cruiser, where it apparently became part of the almost incredible load of stuff I was carrying, never to be seen again.
This morning, after having discovered yesterday that the PT was beyond repair, I went over to High Point Tire to take all the stuff out and put it… well… somewhere. And as I did, I kept thinking the ring would turn up. It’s an inexpensive ring… not worth much at all either materially, or, as it turns out, symbolically. I did not want to find it, and I did not find it. So it’s presumably somewhere in the car.
I have been offered $200 for the car… after some checking around, that’s the best I can get for it.
But the new symbolism struck me as I was leaving the car place: The wedding ring, which meant so much when I got it, now is destined for the scrapyard. Literally.
It doesn’t make me feel any better, but I do love the cheap literary symbolism.