I woke up this morning and put on my grandmother's wedding ring. I haven't worn it in years. She was a dairy farmer, and her ring has just a little chip of a diamond. But for some reason I wore it today, and when I put it on I asked my grandmother for her help. And then I wondered if that was a such a good idea, given that there is a very good chance that my dairy farmer grandmother would have been horrified by my lesbian relationship.
But maybe not. Because later this morning, you finally texted me back. I asked if we could meet this evening and you agreed. As you were approaching, I saw you begin to cry. And I began to cry. And we hugged.
We took a walk along the water and sat on a bench and watched the sun set over Pretty Big City. We talked. There were more tears. I held your hand and told you that I love you. After the sun went down you were cold. We got some dinner even though I still can't really eat.
You are not moving home. But I am to find a couples counselor. I don't know how things are going to turn out. But I do know that I am not going to take my grandmother's ring off.