I found a dead dragonfly on the sidewalk this morning while walking Casey. It's proof that summer is dead.
Its gossamer wings were torn and its body had been eviscerated by ants. Apparently, it has been there long enough for nature to have recycled the best of it, leaving a chitinous shell that reminds us of what once was.
That got me thinking about other artifacts of my previous life. Yesterday, I picked up the dismantled components of my engagement ring. The stones and original setting will go back to Eric's family, where they belong.
As I sat looking at the empty platinum setting that I wore for several years, I wasn't sure what to do next. It doesn't fit me stylistically or physically (it's a 7 3/4, I now wear a 5 1/2), but I'm unsure how to remake the ring, because I don't know what I want it to be. Perhaps I'm thinking about it so much because its an apt metaphor for my life.
I have ideas of how I'd like it to be remade, to be sure. All of them involve destroying the old form and forging a new one, a process that's well underway.
In the end, I took the setting, put it back in its box, and told my jeweler that I'd be back when I knew what I wanted.