The Missing Ring

I was having a good day. I came home from work and ate a hot plate of chicken with caramelized onions, which my amazing good cook of a fiancé made for us. Our kitty Grigio was sitting on my lap, jumping on the table, laying on the kitchen floor as usual. We fed her hot chicken, she loved it. I don’t know what Dan and I were talking about, probably about the news and work and of course a little bit of nonsense. Because Dan cooks (I am not a cook at this point), I do the dishes. This particular night I decided to stick my engagement ring in my back pant pocket while I finished cleaning up. So I did. The next thing I did was clean out Grigio’s litter box which was particularly dirty, with my ring back in its proper place, on my finger. Then I vacuumed, then I went to wash my face, and then I looked for my ring (which I usually leave on the inside corner of the bathroom sink) and I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere in the bathroom. Looked back in the kitchen. Looked back in the pants pocket. I couldn’t find it. I told Dan it was missing. I didn’t think I was going to get scared but then I did. My beautiful ring, my engagement ring, just a symbol of our love.  JUST A SYMBOL.  No, an object symbolizing our love. It's just an... where is it? Dan and I went from room to room, checking every table, every inch of the floor. I’m being punished I thought. Maybe I don’t deserve Dan. Dear St. Anthony, please come around, my ring is lost and it can’t be found. We checked the living room. Looked under tables, couches. We started wondering if Grigio did something to it. Hearts pounding, we started getting really, really nervous. Where could it be? It couldn’t have just disappeared! Tell me the order of events leading up to you realizing you didn’t have it, Dan says. I tell him. We double check my back jeans pocket. Nothing.

I open up my night-stand drawer. There it is, glistening on top of my eye-glasses case. I dropped it in there mindlessly, trying to keep it safe, but forgetting where the safe place was. This thing, this thing worth thousands. Dan yells that I should leave it on from now on. I tell him I can’t the soap will make it slip off. I cry. It’s found. Dan says we have it insured we could have gotten a replacement. NO not for this one, I said, not this one. Dan, I can see now, was scared and sad. My tears start coming down harder. We lay on the bed, Dan holds me tightly. My ring is in its right place, all is well with the world.

Never has there ever been an object so dear to me. Never will I lose it again.

When does a thing stop being a thing and start meaning something more? Once it's past a certain price point? No... can't be. I've lost jewels before.

With relief,
F