Silver Circles

Twin circles of twisted silver bear witnesses to every moment of my adult life. Although I've never taken them off, that's no longer possible, even if I wanted to. Not anymore. Either my hands have gotten thicker or the bracelets have shrunk.

Scanners yell and point at me in airports and government buildings. I guess that could be the result of personality analysis software but I think it's the bracelets. They're every bit as much a part of me as a child's favorite blanket.

Those bracelets saw me place my hands gently onto my Grandfather's chest as he lay motionless on a mortuary table. I whispered my last goodbyes. They gave a tiny puppy something to chew on as she squirmed for unfettered freedom. That good girl grew to be my best pal for 17 years. Now she's been gone for more than twenty. Those bracelets hung loosely as I held my lover's hand, both of us nervous under the piercing glare of a Justice of the Peace. He transformed us from two into one. They often jangled like bells when I would salute an Air Force superior, catching the sun as well as his disdainful glare at my unauthorized adornments. Oh well. These days, they hover as I stir soups over the stove or share an embrace with my wife, like those spiral rings, warm, familiar, reassuring.

Each second of the passing hours of my life since my early 20's, they've circled my right wrist, silver rings that traveled every road with me. One day, I will cut them off and hand one to each of my two daughters with a request: Size them to fit. Have them soldered shut, end to end, full circle. Fused into memory rings that accompany you on your own journeys. There will be a time when I won't need them anymore. Take them, let me walk with you, through them, together every step of the way.