The Ring

continued

My mom and my sister live on the west side of the state. When they come to Ann Arbor for the Art Fair, they rely on me to navigate. They are always amazed when I can find a clean restroom or a bit of air conditioning, and they trust me to lead them back to the booth with the piece they regretted not purchasing earlier in the day. How do I know where to go among all that confusion? Easy. I live here. I know the streets, the stores, and the landmarks. Plus, all the booths are numbered! It doesn't take special skill to be their guide, but it's fun to have them think I'm some kind of genius.

The weather that day was hot and humid. My mom's hands were swollen, making her wedding ring uncomfortably tight, so she took it off and tucked it into her wallet for safekeeping before we started out in the morning. As the day progressed, we wended our way from one end of the fair to the other, purchasing food, drinks, and art all along the way. By the evening, there weren't many places we hadn't been, and too many places her ring could be.

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