A couple of weeks ago, my wife lost her wedding ring. Actually, she really only lost part of her wedding ring — the sparkly part — the diamond. According to the story she told, after a day of shopping with our daughter, she happened to look at her hand and noticed that it was gone.
For my part, I'm trying to believe her when she says it was an accident, and that it is no implication, conscious or subconscious, of the status of our marriage. I suppose I have no real choice in the matter, for, two or three years ago, I lost my wedding ring while working around the nursery. It simply slipped off when I wasn't looking. Of course, I searched for it diligently, but found nothing. Somewhere, hidden in the mud that plagues my nursery, is a valuable symbol of our love for each other.
Just as I searched for my lost ring, my wife also made efforts to recover her precious possession. She called all the stores she had been in on that fateful day. But so far, no lost and found department has called to say that an honest citizen has found and returned the diamond.
At this point, I am tempted to say that the lost diamond was not a real one. Perhaps this approach would persuade a wavering person to do the right thing. If it were believed that the supposed diamond had no commercial value, this might increase the chances of its safe return. Who, after all, would be tempted to keep an item that had such tremendous sentimental value if it is only a symbol of wondrous marital bliss — but not worth anything in cold, hard cash?
But alas, I cannot lie. The diamond is real. And, as I recall, the stone was immense. I believe I remember that my wife often walked with her left hand hanging at her side because of the great weight. And, oh, the sacrifice that went into obtaining that precious stone. It brings to mind an exhausted worker in South Africa who, near the end of his 15-hour shift, first spotted the this particular diamond.
Despite the exhaustion from the backbreaking work 20 miles underground, where the temperature was 150 degrees and the humidity 113 percent, the laborer was overjoyed when he saw it.
"This gem," he rightly predicted, "will one day grace the finger of a most excellent woman."
That is to say nothing of the person who cut the facets of the gem, revealing its hidden brightness. Surely that person also sensed the special nature of the stone that was destined to rest for 29 years on the delicate digit of my wife, this lasting until the recent, most sad day when it disappeared.
Perhaps it would also be appropriate to mention the great sacrifice that I personally offered. I spent countless hours, nay, months, of hand-blistering labor to afford the gem that my wife deserved.
And so I plead for your assistance in righting this cosmic wrong. If you see any sparkling object on the pavement of a shopping mall, or any twinkle in the dust of the earth within a 50-mile radius of the distribution of this newspaper, please pause and look closer, for it may well be the precious object that my wife lost.
In fact, to be on the safe side, it would be best to return any valuable article you find to me. (This would include things such as $50 bills, rubies, stock certificates, etc. But it would exclude any coins, except those made of gold.)
My wife and I greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter.
In a strange twist of events, one that makes a person wonder about the workings of the universe, on the same day that my wife lost her diamond, someone close to us was "giving" a new diamond. More about that next week.
Bob Hansen, a local resident, can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. All rights reserved.