This is my engagement ring.

When people hear that I’m getting married, the first thing they do is squeal and reach for my left hand. I don’t get it. I’ve had people jump to see my ring before they say congratulations or ask how wedding plans are going.

Why is there so much excitement over the material thing? Why is the fact that we’ve committed to spend the rest of our lives together on the back burner?

Don’t get me wrong—I gaze at my hand and wonder how I managed to get a guy who knows me so well that he could fit everything about my personality into a .5 inch piece of white gold. I love it. I love that it’s one of a kind, that no one else has it. I love how unique it is. I love that it’s ME.

But come on, world. I’m more excited about marriage than diamonds. He could have given me a piece of twine and I would have said yes.

Be excited for me. Not for what I’m wearing. Because one day, this ring may get lost or stolen. I may drop it down a kitchen sink or have it eaten by a raccoon when I take it off for a nice picnic lunch.

I’m not one to celebrate the temporary. My treasure isn’t on my left hand—it’s in the vows, and the promises and the rest of our lives.