Aquamarine is Katie's birthstone. Fifteen years ago or so, I bought an aquamarine ring and started wearing it frequently. The plan was to eventually give the ring to Katie on her wedding day as her "something old" and her "something blue." (Her dress will be new. N will provide the "something borrowed.")
Six weeks ago, I lost the ring. Gone. Gone. Gone. Not in any of the places I would mindlessly set rings when involved in some messy task. Not in the safe. Not in the jewelry box. Not in the car or my bedroom or my closet. Not in the pockets of any rarely-worn jacket.
It was with me in Michigan when I was reading those carnival letters. I remember picking it up off the desk in the hotel room, thinking how horrible it would be to lose it after all these years. And then nothing.
I pulled the washing machine apart to check the filters in case it got washed in a pants pocket. Same with the dryer. Nada. I searched my car with a flashlight. Nothing.
Panic stalked me, but every time it flared, I calmed myself with a strange faith that the ring would show up. Not that bad things can't happen, but I believed my unconscious would not let me do anything completely foolish with this ring meant for so special a mission. Several times, I considered telling Katie what had happened but held out, still hoping to find it.
Yesterday, I was in my workroom, shaping armature for a Christmas ornament I'm making. I bent to retrieve a dropped tool from under the table, and there on the floor, leaned against the baseboard, sat the aquamarine ring.
Absolutely no idea how it got there, but the lost is found. I could not be happier to find any inanimate object.
Now, I can tell Katie.