Tuesday, November 13, 2012

A Lost Diamond in the Rough

So this is the thing. I've decided that the past three months (since school began or since we got the dog, or both) have probably been some of our hardest months ever. We're fine, of course, but the thread of little lousy things that just keep on happening is never ending. Nothing major, we're healthy and happy, nothing to really complain about. However.

One thing that was, still is, practically painful is that I lost the diamond from my engagement ring. I loved that ring. It was perfect. Small enough, big enough, shiny enough. Scott chose it on his own, without me ever seeing it before the day he proposed.

I lost it on a day when there was no real chance of finding it. I'd taken the dog for a long walk, done laundry, changed the sheets on all the beds, gone to work.  Of course after work that evening, Scott and I stripped the beds and looked everywhere (including remnants of our dog's meals, on their way out if you get what I mean) but it was gone. 

I have such a strong image of this ring that comes to mind whenever I miss it. It's of a particular bike ride we were on in Toronto (we biked everywhere in Toronto, I feel I was much braver then). And I remember it being a perfect day, my fingers gripping the left handlebar as I rode happily, watching my ring sparkling away in the sun. That's one thing I think of, and why my stomach aches a little, everytime I remember that it's gone.


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