This was first posted December 3, 2010.
I don’t know if I should title this entry, “Panic” or “White Knuckles”. After falling asleep while trying to watch the National Finals Rodeo… I awoke to a dog’s snuffling nose at my bedside. Grabbing ten more seconds of warmth, I tossed back the covers and glanced at my windows.
No rim of frost. Good.
That meant it was a “warm” winter day… 20 or 30. Ten and below decorated the windows on those “cold” winter days. I needed to be off to Worland, grabbing the Festival of Trees wreath from the Ten Sleep library.
Coffee-ed.
Showered.
Dressed.
Packed.
A last minute glance in the mirror, and I reached for some different earrings. And my mom’s diamond ring. While I love jewelry, I tend to stick to some basic ones around here. Not overly expensive, but tending to match the blues and greens I find myself wearing these days.
I switched to silver hoop style earrings of my mom’s. And I reached for the ring. I grabbed a gold hoop earring instead. Laughing at my poor eyesight, I squinted into the box where I ALWAYS store the ring.
The ring.
A band of gold nuggets… bought when we lived in Alaska. I remember the nuggets originally being rough and uneven, now worn smooth from years and years and years of wear. Welded to it, a thin simple band, purchased years later, holding a one carat diamond that sparkled over the nuggets.
I remember the phone call from my mom.
“You’ll NEVER guess what your dad just bought me.”
Now a junior in college, I had a pretty good idea of what my dad considered impractical.
“Well,” I wrinkled my brow, “It’s either a brand new car or a diamond. I’m guessing… a car?”
“You’d be wrong!” I could hear the smile in her voice. The sincere LOVE that she had for my dad.
“Really? A DIAMOND?”
“YES!”
“So, like, is it big?”
“Oh, my. Very. Probably too big.”
Then a sigh, that told me more volumes about their Love.
That ring.
The ring that was no longer in my jewelry box. A twinge built in my gut, but I forced it down. It had to be there. I’m so paranoid about losing it, I wear it only to town and take it off when I walk back in my own door. I check it constantly in town to make sure it’s there on my finger.
I grabbed the box, which holds my favorites and dumped it on the bed. Earring. Earring. Necklace. Necklace. Bracelet. No ring.
“Oh, God.” Panic. I looked again. “Oh, God.”
That was it. I was in full panic. I looked on my desk and moved items. Tossed papers. Moved a pile of junk. I found an earring. What?
Then I noticed an earring on the floor. Had someone knocked my box off my desk? I slid my chair away from my desk and saw another earring. Then to the left… a glimpse of gold.
With tears streaming down my face, I reached and grabbed what my heart had feared was lost. I know it’s just a ring. It’s not Mom… it’s not Daddy… it’s just metal and a memory, but it is a gold and diamond link to my past.
I thanked God and slid it onto my finger and wiped my face and headed into town.
The roads were NASTY. Since the guys kidnapped my Durango, I had to use Daniel’s Firebird. Not really an all weather vehicle. I drove 45 mph. In snow and ice and slush. And I hoped I hadn’t used up all my “Oh, God”s for one day!
I arrived, white knuckled, and cranked down the level of tunes… the Casey Donahew Band had tried their best to distract my worries. But I was safe, and with a sparkling ring on my finger, I set up our wreath display.
Find me here!
A heart stopping few moments for sure. What a relief to find it.
Love the wreath.
I can understand your panic. My Granddad made my Mom’s engagement ring for my Dad. I never take it off when out as I once lost a ring when I took it off to wash my hands in the restroom. A hard lesson was learnt that day.
You lived in Alaska ? That must have been an adventure.