Leaf Fall
Hugh Scott-Symonds

After a lengthy search and fighting back tears, I announced to Patrick that my wedding band was officially lost.

“I’m sure it will turn up,” Patrick told me, barely glancing up from his work.

“I’m sure it will,” I echoed, silently feeling exactly the opposite sentiment.

This was only the latest sign that my “7-year itch” was more than just a passing phase.  First, there was the strange e-mail from my high school sweetheart.  Then the call from my mother where she confessed, through tears, that she had never really loved my father.  Now this.

Maybe our marriage wasn’t meant to be.  Maybe Patrick wasn’t really my soul mate.

No, I told myself.  That kind of thinking is ridiculous; I love Patrick. And nothing is perfect.

Determined not to obsess, I tried to concentrate on other matters: work, diet, exercising.  Anything to avoid thinking about the fate of our marriage.

It wasn’t working; I continued to obsess.  Was there an inherent flaw in our marriage or had we simply grown apart?  I wasn’t sure, but I resolved to at least attempt to discuss the issue with Patrick.

“Patrick… I’m just so confused.  I’ve spent a lot of time thinking, and –”

“Oh.  I forgot to tell you.  I found your ring.”