Tungsten Skies
By Timothy Patrick
2 Jul 2008
The tungsten wedding band launched into the air against tungsten skies, my freezing hands allowing the quick release of my holy matrimony in one desperate moment, watching what was now a piece of me land in a fresh bank of snow, five feet high along this Western Shore. My eyes caught the trail vapors and followed the flight into the harsh white. How deep could it have fallen? Christina stands there aghast at the disappearance of this circular symbol. The voluminous clouds blocking the sun but not my growing fear. To my knees - I thrust my bare hands into the pack - hoping to cradle lost treasure, this tungsten ring of mine, of ours. Slowly I lift up a ball of pure white, which quickly falls away revealing the cold metal in my cupped hands.
I slip the ring back in place as I gaze outward across the waters. Carelessness returns and we make snowmen, snow angels and take turns leaping from the pier onto the snow-covered sands. Before we leave we take to the edge of the pier, above the placid January waters of Lake Tahoe. The peaks and firs to the East seem cold and frozen in time as my breath rise upward to the light finally breaking through.
