
One day, rubbing my ring finger against the baby finger, the realization came that the ring was missing. Where had I put it? On the windowsill near the kitchen sink? Nope. On the dresser in the bedroom? Nope. No ring. Upstairs, downstairs, and everywhere in between, I looked for that ring but the multiple searches turned up nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Sad, but resigned, I tried to put the ring out of my mind. After all, it served as just a symbol of our love. It was a material thing. The ring could be replaced, the love could not.
Then, one day, while dusting inside the dining room china cabinet, I picked up a crystal candle holder and something inside the hollow, where the candle goes, rattled. It was the ring! How in the world did that ring get into the candle holder? There was certainly no recollection of it in my memory. Bizarro.
Then I thought, "Who cares how it got in there?" The most important thing is that it is now found. Once again, I could put it on and be reminded of how sweet and thoughtful my husband is.
Lost then found. Thank goodness.