Back in July, as I was preparing to celebrate?our traditional wedding anniversary (which, she maintains, has less significance than our ROM anniversary, but to me, it’s just another annual reason for us to celebrate),??my wife sheepishly approached me.
“I tell you something, you don’t get angry, okay?” she said.
“I’m not going to get angry,” I replied. “What is it?”
“I lost my wedding ring.”
I understood the significance my wife held of losing her wedding band. We’ve talked about it a few times; my wife was usually the one telling me not to lose my ring, as it would ultimately signify that our marriage would be in trouble and we may eventually break up. Superstition? Maybe. But this is one of those things we wouldn’t take any chances with — we love each other too much to get careless with our rings.
I pulled her closer and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it.” I reassured her.
The next couple of days we searched through our entire house for a tiny silvery circle with a tiny sparkly diamond. Under cushions, in bed crevices, under the sink, in the drainage pipes,… I would have said we turned the house upside down looking for it, but if you knew this family well, you would know the house was already quite upside down to begin with. We found coins, keychains, a number of toy balls, a couple of toy cars, and some half-eaten muruku sticks (we’re still trying to teach Xan to eat over his bowl)… but no ring.
I continued to reassure my wife that everything was going to be all right, and we sort of left it at that, though I knew guilt from losing the ring would continue to hang over my wife’s head.
4 Months Later
The last week or so, I’ve been busy clearing out our study to make space for a set of new tables that we took over from my sister’s office (the official excuse for this blog’s hiatus last week). Last week was also our ROM anniversary, and we came to an agreement that?due to our present circumstances, we wouldn’t buy each other presents. In the back of my mind I thought it would be a nice enough present if I end up finding the ring in what we have always rated the worst-kept room of our looks-like-there-was-an-intruder-but-no-it’s-just-us house.
After the tables were delivered and I started repacking all the stuff, I was sorting out our collection of 124 pens, pencils and markers when I heard a clink. I looked down and saw a tiny silvery circle with a tiny sparkly diamond on it.
I picked up the ring, and then I picked up the phone, and then I messaged my wife:
Human sentiment is a powerful driver.?It’s funny how we attach meaning to objects, to such an extent that if we lose that object, we might fear the worst. But at the same time, having these rings on our fingers gives us this sense of peace and safety, an assurance that everything is okay, even when the odds are stacked against you.
But since we found the ring, my wife’s caught me smiling whilst staring at her now shiny-again ring finger. She’d give me this weird look like I was unconsciously mouthing the words “My precioussssss”, but no.
I’m just happy we’re okay.