forgot to mention

what happened

when i went to 

the doctor with madeline, 

a woman sitting next to me

on the phone, 

talking very loudly

(to a presumably disinterested party)

about nothing.

when she hung up, 

she turned to me

(with madeline in a carseat on my lap, anya to my right)

and said, 

“are you wearing your wife’s rings because they don’t fit on her finger?”

not knowing what

to say, 

i turned to her

and said, 

“no. my wife passed away the day after my baby was born and…”

before i could

finish the 

sentence 

she started bawling

and hurried out of

the waiting room

(leaving behind her teenage-daughter to watch her two-year old).

the rest of the 

folks in the waiting room

seemed a little

shocked,

and also started crying.

the thing is, 

i don’t really

know the best way

to answer

such a question.

i mean, 

i could have made

up some crazy fucking story

about why i’m wearing

liz’s 

rings 

but,

the truth is 

far crueler 

than fiction in this case.

so i went with 

the truth.

now…

the rest of the sentence,

the parts i didn’t 

get out of my mouth

were the utilitarian reasons 

i have

for wearing her

rings…

first,

i need to keep

them near me,

’cause i don’t

have a safety deposit box

and

second, 

after having been burglarized

once already,

i can’t leave

them unattended in the

house.

(yes, i know it sounds irrational…i likely won’t get burglarized ever again, but i’d be seriously pissed if something happened to them).

besides, 

after my unexpected

weight loss

(still down 22 pounds from the days before liz passed away)

the rings fit

perfectly on my pinkie.

anyway, 

what self-respecting dude

doesn’t need a few

diamonds on his finger?