What should I do? I lost my wedding ring.

I realized something was wrong while waiting on the platform for the Shinkansen on the way home, after fully enjoying a whirlwind one-day trip to Hakone with two other female friends.

Something was wrong with my finger. At first, I didn't know what that strange feeling was. It was because it was something that was always there, so normal. That's why the shock when I realized the cause of the discomfort was quite significant.

My wedding ring is gone!

My husband's face was the first thing that came to mind.

How could it be? The ring I had been wearing for 25 years had vanished from my ring finger.

We all frantically searched for it, but couldn't find it. I didn't even know when I had lost it. To have the conclusion of a fun trip be the loss of my wedding ring,

is not even a joke.

My two friends said in unison.

Maybe it's at home?
That might be it.

We had that conversation and cut the search short.

But I know. There's no way the ring is at home.

I remembered the conversation I had with my husband last night.

[Me] I wonder how long everyone wears their wedding rings.

[Husband] For me, even if I wanted to take it off, it's dug in and won't come off. I heard that when it won't come off, you have to get it cut off at the fire station. Like a rescue mission.

[Me] Mine is pretty dug in too.

I pulled hard on the ring on my ring finger and pulled it off. There was a clear indentation on my finger where it had been. If this were my waist, it would be a nice body like Barbie's.

[Me] So, unless we lose weight, we are forced to pledge our love forever.

[Husband] I don't think I'm going to lose weight from now on, so I guess I can't escape the curse of marriage until I die.

What's with that disappointed look!

However, I feel bad making only my husband wear the curse of marriage. I have no choice, I'll keep wearing it until I lose weight and it falls off on its own.

I said, and put it back on. The ring, which has been with me for so long, is now a part of my finger. When it settles into the indentation, it fits so perfectly that I don't even realize I'm wearing it. I certainly pushed it over the knuckle. Hard. So, there's no way it could have slipped off just from waving my hand.


And that brings us to the opening scene.
I traced my memory to see where I might have dropped it. I was definitely wearing it in the morning. I remembered the conversation my husband and I had last night and checked it.

I have absolutely no memory of it.

I went home and told him what had happened.

"It's ironic that you, who have no intention of taking it off, lost it, while I can't take mine off even if I wanted to."

Then, my eldest daughter said quietly.

"If you took pictures, isn't it in them?"

Oh, right, maybe it is. In a panic, we all started examining my left hand in the photos.

We went back in time one by one. It's not here, it's not in the next one either. We all checked in order. We can't really analyze this. It's like we're the forensic science team.

And then, the very first photo.

Huh? It's not there. No matter how many times I look, it's already gone. If that's the case, was the ring on the Shinkansen? Or maybe at home? In the car?

I had assumed I left the curse of marriage back in Hakone. Hakone is huge. There's no way to search for it there. I was ready to give up.

But if it's at home or in the car, that's a different story. I can search for it, can't I? Or rather, shouldn't I search for it? Now, the pressure to find it has been added.

Ugh, do I really have to look for it?

Perhaps deep down, I was secretly pleased, as I had been looking for an excuse to take the ring off before it got stuck for good.

I looked at my ringless ring finger. Does my life change at all whether there's a ring on it or not? To put it another way, I don't really mind that it's gone; it's as if it's still there even though it isn't. I didn't even notice it was gone for a whole day.

A lot of time has passed since then. In the end, I did a token search, but the ring was never found. My ring finger has been freed from the tight ring, but I am still spending my days being pushed around by my family just as before.

But I realized one thing. I called it the curse of marriage, but that never really existed in the first place.

Admittedly, marriage has many troublesome aspects. There are times when I want to throw it all away and return to being single.

But that is not a curse; it is proof of a bond. Our marriage became the starting point, and the bonds between us and those around us expanded, the bonds with our growing family, and the further bonds that family connects. The sense of security that I am truly there within all of that.

Those things are invisible, but they are definitely there. Just like my wedding ring.

I want my husband, who calls the ring a curse of marriage, to experience this feeling too.

"Hey, there's a way to take a ring off by wrapping your finger with string, want to try it?"

We actually tried it, but it didn't go that well. My husband's ring remained embedded. It wouldn't budge at all.

I guess this is a job for the rescue team after all. But cutting it isn't ideal. The ring is proof of a bond. Cutting a bond is bad luck. Losing it is one thing, though (laughs).

So, for my insensitive husband who cannot see our bond, I give him a ring he can see. For me, who can firmly feel the invisible bond, I have an invisible ring. Our wedding rings may have different forms, but we are wearing the same thing.

"I've never seen an old man go into his coffin wearing his wedding ring. What if my finger gets hijacked by the ring?"

As I thought, for my husband, a wedding ring is indeed a curse in a different sense. How pitiful.