Just a few days ago, my ring was found.
A loot hunter was sent out to find the stolen goods from my in laws’ house, and among a heap of other prized possessions my ring was discovered.
I imagine my ring slipped on the pinky of a grubby thief. A thief, who, having no idea what it was worth - crept into a pawn shop and sold it for a measly $279 on the same day he stole it.
I had already started shopping for a new ring before my ring was found. And, as much as I like shiny, expensive accessories - nothing measured up. Nothing on the web page after web page I browsed meant anything to me like my ring did.
In the bathroom this morning, I applied my make-up. Lucas put his arms around me from behind and announced with a smile, “your ring was found.” It’s amazing how much I now appreciate something that I always knew was special. It’s been lost and now recovered. It’s had adventures of it’s own. As much as it meant, it now means more. Perhaps, I too, did not realize it’s worth.
We’re still awaiting the arrival of our 3rd daughter. And, now, we’re also awaiting the ring. We have to pay the pawn shop $279. Paperwork has to be filed. There are formalities and legalities. It could take a month or more. Our baby will be born. And, quietly, the ring will be slipped back onto my finger. A small, unassuming new beginning.