The Year of Losing Things
Somewhere out there in a parking lot or a super market is the $900 diamond that my Daddy gave to my Mom in 1953.
It fell out of my ring unbeknownst to me while I was picking out beach chairs at Target or watermelon at Ralph’s. It could be a million places. It could be down a drain, or underneath the deck in my yard, having fallen between slats.
It would have been better if I'd lost the whole ring. It’d be easier to find than the modest little rock he gave her when he asked for her hand.
I'm hoping it got stuck in the lace of an undergarment and it’ll turn up at a random moment in a place I never thought to look.
But believe me. I've looked everywhere. Retraced every step since returning home from my errands yesterday. On the piano keys. Inside my guitar. Under the dining room table. In the refrigerator vegetable bin.
Both of my parents are gone. I have their faces in my mind and their voices in my head. Memories of a beautiful childhood. More love than I could have asked for. So it's not like I have nothing to remember them by. Still. This was a symbol of their union. From what love I came. Inspired by their obvious love for each other, my daughter recently did this painting of a photo she found.
I lost my prescription glasses a few months ago, left my keys to everything in my life on the roof of my car. I've left robes on backs of hotel doors and iPads on planes. All these things I miss. And feel naked without. I have thoughts about where they are now. Whose hands are touching my stuff. But those things do not compare.
You may say this wasn’t my fault. But it was. I was constantly fidgeting with that stone and I recently I noticed that it was... well loose. When I tapped it, it made a little clicking sound. Not a good sign. I knew I had to have it fixed. What was I waiting for?
Am I lazy? Is there too much on my list of things to do? Am I flirting with the notion that I’m immune to misfortune? I should know that's not true. I lost both my parents way before their time. So, misfortune—I’m familiar with.
I’m beside myself.
My Mom once lost that diamond during a summer she spent with my Dad in a bungalow colony in Lake Mohegan NY. Someone showed up at her door with it resting on a rose colored pillow. They had found it in the laundry facility.
I should be so lucky.
Honestly. I'm trying to let go of material possessions. They're only things. Aren't they? Inanimate objects with no heartbeat. But then why am I heartbroken? So mad at myself. I don’t think anyone’s gonna show up at my door with a diamond on a pillow. It’s my own fault. And I’ll have to live with that.
*****
PS…It's the morning after the day I searched high and low. I finished writing this story, and sad as I was, I felt like I had taken responsibility for my non-action and needed to move on. I closed my laptop and got up to walk back into my house. And there, right there on the deck, a few feet away from where I had been sitting, something was twinkling. Like a tap on my shoulder. I thought, No. Universe, don’t do this to me. Is it a bead from some plastic child’s toy? What a cruel joke that would be. But it wasn’t a joke.
