It's just a ring. Except to me? It was everything.

I had to go by Brian’s house this past week for a couple of reasons.  It was only the 2nd time I have been there since we broke up in December.  While I was there, I gathered up some of my things that were still at his house.   Mainly clothes, a battery charger for my Nikon.

And my Jessica Simpson shoe box.

In that shoe box?  All the cards, all the jewelry boxes, the wrapping paper and bows from all the gift Brian had given me over the past couple of years.  Yes I am a pack rat.  Or I’m sentimental.  Or frankly just a dork.

Also in that box?

The diamond ring, the jewelry box it come in and the gift bag that I gave him for Christmas.  The day he broke up with me?  I told him I wanted that ring back because frankly it meant everything to me, and he didn’t deserve to have it.  At the time I wanted to hurt him as much, if not more, than he was hurting me.  I’m not sure I did.  I’m not sure it bothered him at all.

Since then?  I have offered many times to let him keep it, and he never wavered.  He never changed his mind. He consistently said “I told you I would give it back.”

And he did.

Now, I have the ring.  And the jewelry box, and the gift bag.  I have every piece of jewelry he ever bought me (minus the ring that is kept safely at the bottom of the lake.) I have the boxes the jewelry came in.  I have the cards he bought me for my birthday, for Valentine’s Day, for just because he loved me.

But I have that ring.

And what am I going to do with it?  I mean, really?  It’s just a ring.  He didn’t wear it but an hour.  It’s just a ring.  I have placed too much meaning and value on a ring that was too little too late and couldn’t save what was already gone.  I have toyed with the idea of taking it back to the jewelry store where I bought it and asking if I could exchange it for something for me.  And yet… that stupid ring? means something to me.

There’s my problem.  I place too much sentimental value on THINGS.  Jewelry boxes.  Cards.  Tickets to movies, races, concerts.  I have CD’s of our Yahoo conversations that we had years ago.  I have every email we ever sent each other.  I have pictures of him, of my girls, of his kids from our first weekend together.  The pictures? They suck.  I was a horrible photographer then.  But I have them.

Because I cling to shit.

Because it meant something to me.

An email.  Or a Yahoo IM.. meant something.

And now this ring?

Shouldn’t mean anything at all.

And yet?

It does.

I tried to wear it one day.  Just because hello? it’s a gorgeous diamond ring.  The problem with wearing it?  To me, it’s his ring that he didn’t want.  And by not wanting it, he didn’t want me.  (NOTE!!!  That sentence right there? ALL 100% me, my feelings, my thoughts)

I took it off.

I put it away.

I don’t know what to do with it.

It’s just a ring.

And yet?

To me, it was everything.