As the sun peeks over the pine trees, the pond wakes up like a child on Saturday morning.
I pull the ring out of my shirt pocket. It sure is light.
Not that a tiny ring weighs much, but this feels like a bird's bone in the palm of my hand, so fragile it might break if I closed my fingers and squeezed a little bit too tight, but the jeweler told me it was harder than gold, that I could roll over it with my pickup truck and the ring wouldn't know the difference. Maybe one of them smart doctors should have made her a heart out of platinum, something lighter and stronger than the one God gave her. It sure couldn't take long to build a heart for a little girl, at least not any longer than that waiting list they put her on.
The sunshine giggles over the water, chasing dragonflies, and the ripples lick at the toes of my work boots, leaving a wet bruise on the leather. I pitch the ring overhand, and it leaps like a scared dove toward the middle of the pond. The bright circle arcs away from me, reflecting the dusty light washing it almost pure white, a halo for a toy angel.
The next color is - Avocado