At my new job I got issued a key to the back door, so I could come in without waiting around for someone to let me in. When I got yesterday night with it, I hesitated before adding it to my key ring…
Up until now, I’ve been using DH’s keys. It has a bottle opener, a movie rental pass, a braided 5/50 cord, and keys to his gun lock, his parent’s house, our house, and the car on it. A total guy’s key ring. I rarely went anywhere without him, so I never carried my house key. I never drove, so I didn’t use the spare car key. I had no reason to have my own key ring since we’ve been here…
I did it yesterday though. I put away DH’s keys and got out the spare set. I put MY car key, MY house key, MY work key, a flashlight, and DH’s spare dog tag on it. Not necessarily a girlie key ring, but MY key ring.
I was excited to gain a symbolic shred of independence, but it was really tough to put away a little piece of DH. The keys don’t sound the same when I grab them off the counter, and there’s no long 5/50 braid to hold on to. I was tempted to go down to the local geardo store and buy one, maybe a little girlie-styled even, but I didn’t want to hear about how it wasn’t braided by a soldier. Plus it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be all worn, sweat stained, and soft. I don’t look at these keys and see him. I see keys.
I think I’ll be more proud of them when DH gets home. Then there’ll be two key rings on the counter in the morning. Right now I’m searching for signs of my honey, and it seems like every step I gain forward erases one more of his left behind. It hurts a lot, but I still want to keep going. I wish it didn’t have to be so painful to grow.
Solitary Wind Chime 