“Don’t drop the ring, don’t drop the ring, don’t drop the ring!”
I repeated the mantra over and over in my head as I rolled the thick, heavy wedding band across my thumb. Below my feet, the wooden planks that made up the dock seemed to have spaces the size of textbooks between them. I inched the ring up higher on my thumb, feeling the large space between the metal and my skin, as I imagined the horrified gasps of the wedding guests when I dropped it. In my mind, I could hear the plunk of the heavy ring on the wood followed by the bloop of the ring hitting the water before sinking to the bottom of the bay. Gripping it tighter, I repeated my new mantra under my breath, “Don’t drop the ring”.
“May we have the rings?” the minister asked suddenly. With a sigh of relief, I handed over the wedding band. As Julie turned to place it on Scott’s finger, I bent down to straighten her train. As I did so, I glanced at the dock beneath my feet and uttered a silent byt grateful prayer of thanks to whichever god looks over small-fingered Maids of Honor and expensive wedding rings.