¶This morning was incredibly frustrating but ultimately turned incredibly joyful and, I think, provided a story I’ll tell for years to come.
¶As background, I lost my wedding ring several years ago. Three, maybe five years ago. At the time of losing it, I had “locked in” on home being the last place I had it. I was confident it had to be somehwhere around the spots in the house where I usually handle it during the day – my nightstand, the closet, my family room chair, etc. So, over the last few years, I’ve turned each of those spots upside down looking for it. I’ve even repeated that process multiple times, knowing that I had done it before. It didn’t take long for me to reach that mental state where a lost item is nagging away at you, seemingly constantly. It was a low-level gnaw, but it was there, always. And it’s my wedding ring!
¶So you probably know where this story is going – I did in fact find my wedding ring this morning. What led to that is really the story, though.
¶I’ve been experimenting with an old Canon SD780 IS point and shoot camera over the last several days. I wrote about that yesterday, and have been having a lot of fun with it. I was planning to take a few photos on my way to work again this morning. As I got in the car and reached into the pocket in my backpack where I’ve been storing the camera, I realized it wasn’t there. I knew – knew – I had put it there just moments earlier as I packed up in the family room. What the heck happened to it? So, I went back to my chair in the family room and looked all around it, but found nothing. Doubt set in, and I convinced myself that I must not have put it in the pocket as my memory had told me. So I explored every other nook and cranny in the backpack.
¶No camera.
¶At this point, I’m doubting everything. Did I take it upstairs last night? I don’t think so, but…maybe? I tried to remember the physical details of my use of the camera last night, a trick I always tell Jake to do when he’s looking for something he lost. I could feel the memory of putting my computer down next to my chair, removing the memory card, and putting that back into the camera. But what did I do with the camera after that? My next memory was putting it into my backpack this morning, which my eyes had just told me could not have happened.
¶So it had to be in the chair…maybe. I ran my hand through the cushions and the back. Nothing. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and looked under the chair. Nothing. I’m not sure why I took this next step (I’ve looked for lost items in this chair many times over the years, and have never done this), but for some reason I raised the footrest and proceeded to use it to physically lift the chair, tipping it back a bit.
¶No camera.
¶But I heard a tink, and then the sound of something rolling along the floor, circling tighter and tighter, and then settling in a spot behind the chair. I caught a glimpse of something gold as it was rolling and I knew right away that I had found my ring. In a sort of Lord of the Rings moment, I dropped the chair and lunged for it. My precious wedding ring! After all these years, I had it back! I was so happy, mostly because I had my ring back but also because I knew the gnaw now would be gone. It took a few minutes, but I eventually realized that part of my happiness was due to knowing that I had been right all along – it had been sitting in one of the places I figured for the last few years. Eventually I realized that this also meant that my searches of those places had not been thorough enough. I should have turned everything upside down a fifth or sixth time, apparently.
¶Renee had left early so I didn’t get to tell her about it right away. I left for work and mostly forgot about the camera. Mostly. When I came home, I started thinking about how I was going to tell Renee about the ring (I decided to not say anything, just keeping it on my finger until she noticed it). I got out of the car, turned toward my workbench and noticed something black on the floor. There lied the camera, lens-side down on the concrete, wedged under the black case for my circular saw. I picked it up, turned it on, and smiled as everything seemed to be in working order (it is). It must have fallen from the top pocket in my backpack – the very pocket in which I knew I had placed it this morning, tumbled onto the floor, and slid beneath the case as I was focused on putting the backpack in the back seat. Says alot for the durability of these old cameras.
