So I guess that's what I get.
But that's what I get for what? What's the lesson for me here?
My diamond ring is gone. I take it off my left hand and my birthstone ring off my right hand when I'm gardening. I don't always remember right away, but as soon as I notice I've left them on, I stop. I come into the kitchen and I rock, rock, rock the rings off my fingers because they're hard to get over that first knuckle joint. I put them in the little pink triangle-shaped cut-glass dish on the window sill above the sink because that's where they go when they're not on my fingers. Sometimes I give them a soak in ammonia water with Joy to sparkle them up while I garden, but not this time.
So it's not what I get for wearing loose rings, because they're tight. Sometimes I can't even get them off.
Is it what I get for having an open-door policy? That would be a stinky lesson for the Universe to teach me. We had all kinds of surly youth in and out of the house this weekend, friends of our boys, but theft seems preposterous to even ponder. And the idea that a stranger wandered in while I was out back gardening, found my pink dish on the window sill and took the diamond ring? Highly unlikely. I'm not going to start locking my doors during the day so forget that, Universe.
Is it what I get for being materialistic? Nah, that's just not me. Life will certainly go on without the ring, but I am truly sad about losing it. This ring replaced my engagement ring that lost its stone years and years ago... we replaced it using money I got when my Uncle Mike died a few years back. It didn't cost a lot, but I spent a long time choosing it - not too girlie, not to garish - ah! A tiny leaf pattern engraved around the band with a square solitaire diamond - perfect. Me.
Is it what I get for being careless? That's an option. My birthstone ring was there in the dish; only the diamond was gone. Did I get distracted mid-way through the routine? Did I go to answer the phone and stick it in a pocket, set it down somewhere or drop it? Yes, I checked the sink strainer, the drain, the disposal and even took off the trap underneath. I sifted through all the garden dirt and weeds I pulled this weekend, opened the garbage bags and touched even the grossest of things... (note to self: remove the drawer under the stove a little more often. I found a peanut, a shell macaroni, a cork, some dust rabbits and a fig newton on the floor, but no ring)
Prepare to meet your match, Universe. I've called on St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things. I've looked everywhere imaginable and even places unimaginable... the ball is in his court now. I'm hopeful, but it's a reserved hopefulness at best.
It's been hours.Think, think, think. As I sit at the desk typing this, hubby comes home from a meeting. Something in our conversation jogs a thought - lotion. I put lotion on my hands in bed late last night because they were so beat up from a weekend of gardening. Lotion on my hands in bed. I check my nightstand, the nightstand drawers, under the bed.
And then I remember. I couldn't get my diamond ring off yesterday morning. I used the lotion to help ease it off last night as I lay in bed; I took it off so I wouldn't gunk it up with the double dose of healing cream.
I peel back the comforter, the blanket, the top sheet. There in the middle of our bed lies my ring.
I haven't figured out the lesson yet, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the Universe and St. Anthony are in cahoots.
9 years ago