Ring of stars

I can't tell you this.
It's too lame and embarrassing and stupid.
So I'll write it to you, instead. Maybe someday you'll get the message. Most likely not; whatever.

When I was little, I did a lot of make-believe. I would pretend I was the fearless warrioress who guarded the woods behind my house. I pretended I was the secret queen of my own realm, the fauns and faeries obeyed my every command and I dealt justly and fairly with all. I pretended I had a magical wedding ring that would enable me to make things grow, even in the fiercest of deserts. It was a simple silver band with brilliant green elf-stones and diamonds set into it. It shone so brightly, it looked like a star set on my finger. That was a lovely dream. I liked that one the most.
I grew older - unfortunately, inevitably - but I didn't really grow up. I still have a flair for the mystical and the dramatic.
I had a boyfriend that I loved very much. We were going to get married and settle down and be together for the rest of our lives. I was sure of it. But things, as so often happens, did not work out that way. I was heartbroken, naive, jealous, violent...Yes, I know. But that's me. Get used to it. Anyway, to commemorate the fact that I don't need a man to fulfill me, to make me happy, to spend the rest of my life with; to show that I am perfectly able to be by myself and be o.k. with it, and to show that I am not ruled by any man, nor any man the head of my house, I got a tattoo of a ring of thorns on my wedding ring finger. It's topped by a star. In a nutshell: love sucks, but there's always hope.
A few weeks ago, you came home from a long trip. I was so thrilled to see you. To hold you again. I love you so much. A solid, grounding love; not this airy shit that makes you light headed. I breathed you in and knew that you are my home. Just like the first time I saw you. The first time I hugged you. I knew. I was home. I came back from some mundane task (getting the mail or paying a bill in town or something) and you were gone out, but there was a ring sitting on the stairs, waiting for me. A band of diamonds. They sparkled so brightly they looked like stars. A whole band of real stars to match the one tattooed in ink on that finger. A band of stars. A ring of hope.

Thank you.

I love you.