Jewelry store salesman. Romancing a 40 something year old housewife of 3, longing for a new trinket to assuage the pain of a drunkard husband and of her hopes and dreams floating downstream, out of reach. Seduced into believing a token golden ring could alleviate the suffocation and toil of daily sock folding and disrespect from her entitled teenagers.
From the driver seat of her minivan, she wonders if it was worth it. A life of promise and security in trade for a life of adventure and uncertainty. She had dreams of becoming a world famous acrobat, that is, until she was swept up into the arms of a wealthy businessman who gave her the world on a silver platter.
“The world is your oyster if you will be wedded to me.”
Years passed, and she had already bore three children, now in adolescence. Her eyes had long since shone like the night sky, and she had a hollowness and vacancy to her presence… As if she were actually far away, not quite here. Day in and day out — the strife of motherhood and doting wivery has spread her far too thin. The simplicity and luster of her youth had vanished, and so had the elasticity of her skin and the sheen of her hair.
“What do I have to show for my life?”, she asks herself, pulling into the driveway after a day of to and fro errand running.
She looks up at the elaborate and ornate façade of a house that had once delighted her tastes. It used to make her so joyous and proud to feel so privileged to be living in it. She even remembers the day she and her husband bought it. She was the sweet young age of 24, and she was enchanted with its size and grandeur. She still remembers the words he whispered in her ear as she stood, head back and mouth agape.
“This is the home in which we will raise our children. This is the home we will live in until we die.”
At the time, those words sounded so sweet… An endearing promise of a happily ever after. Today, as those words echo and reverberate in the chamber of her mind, she shivered while her stomach churned.
“I’ve settled for a life of mediocrity,” she cries.
“I won’t insult you with rash and trite solutions,” says her heart.
“No, please, tell me what I need to do,” she pleads.
“It’s simple, but not in the ways you might think,” says heart.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”, she demands.
“You will soon find out.”
Disoriented and frazzled, she slinks from the car shopping bags in toe. She draws the house key from her coat pocket, lifts her hand to the knob, and remembers her golden ring. The glimmer and intrigue of her new acquisition had faded. She thought to herself, “Great, now I have another piece of junk I didn’t really need or want, and the bill too. Guess I’ll deal with it later,” and pushes forth through the door.