I lost my ring. I can’t really describe the moment of panic I experienced when I happened to look down at my hand and realized that it wasn’t there. I quickly looked at my other hand in the hope that I switched the hand I usually wore it on as I sometimes do, but it wasn’t there either. Desperation set in followed by a small beam of hope and then the horror of reality landing like the thud of a rock in my heart.
I feel a little silly thinking I would find it again. I feel silly for roaming around a city in the darkness, retracing my steps with my eyes glued to the ground in the hopes that a glint of gold would catch my eye. As if I would find something so small and insignificant in the world again.
Maybe someone else found it. Maybe someone picked it up from a muddy pile of leaves or garbage on the ground and put it on in ecstasy. My ring. The ring I got from my parents on my 16th birthday. The ring I fiddled with through every midterm question I didn’t know how to answer. The ring that got me to grow accustomed to wearing rings on my middle finger of my pointer finger. The ring I would glance at every now and then and smile at. It would always get soap underneath it and the diamonds on it would catch the sunlight and I would proudly notice it every time I lifted a cup of tea to my lips.
I know that it was just an object, but there was so much sentiment attached to it. I was already planning on giving it to one my kids when they needed hope (I admit, this was probably jumping the gun a bit). It makes me sad that this little object won’t accompany me around the world. It won’t slide off my finger when I play the piano and it won’t be sitting on the window sill right above our sink when I do the dishes.
Although I feel heartbroken that it is gone and never coming back, I am thankful that it was just a ring and not something more important like a loved one or my finger that I lost. Thinking about it this way helps put the reality of the loss in perspective. It’s just a ring, just a ring, just a ring. No matter how much sentimental value I place on it, it doesn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, it’s just a material object. Hundreds are molded and created every day (I assume).
Good bye, little ring. I will miss you dearly; more than words can say. I hope you are on some nice girl’s finger instead of lying forgotten in some crack in the road somewhere.
PS: On a side note, future husband: please don’t get me a ring. I will probably end up losing it too.
PPS: I feel like Gollum. Who knew I was so obsessed with a ring.