At the time of this writing, I’ve had my wedding ring for almost 18 years. I usually wear it, but sometimes do take it off when involved in an activity where it might get in the way or lost. How can it get lost? Well, it has never really fit my finger quite perfectly. It has always been just slightly loose. It doesn’t slide or fall off, but it isn’t a snug fit. For instance, I’ll take it off when swimming, as the water makes things a little slick. Whatever, the fact is I’ve had the ring for 18 years and have somehow managed to keep it from disappearing to the bottom of a lake, down a drain, lost in mountain bike wipeouts, working, running, hiking, buried in mud doing yard work, etc.
You know what it’s like when you misplace something? Yeah, at first I thought I’d simply misplaced the ring, but something was telling me nope. Nope, sir, this time it’s actually gone. As anyone would, I cruised the house and checked all the usual places where it might be: the dresser, nightstand, bathroom counter, pants pockets, jacket pockets. Nothing. And something inside me was insisting that it wasn’t here.
I decided to retrace my steps from yesterday. This is where things get a little bizarre, as I sometimes do bizarre things. You see, I had taken my vehicle to the shop to have some work done. That in itself isn’t bizarre. What is kind of bizarre is to pick the vehicle up at the end of the day, I decided to run down to go get it (the map I’m looking at claims the distance from my house to the garage is about 10km. Seems a bit long to me, but whatever. It was a bit of a run, yeah). So I ran. And at one point I did not run, but slid down an icy slope on my ass and hands after slipping. The sharp, icy snow cut and bloodied my hands as I slid down the embankment. Could my ring have been ripped off my finger as I slid down the icy snow? Hmmm …
This morning was beautiful and sunny. I decided to head back to the trail where I slipped yesterday on my 41 year old ass and hunt for my ring. Though the odds of finding it were slim, I believe at least trying can yield positive results. Right? I mean, if you do absolutely nothing, you’re certainly not going to succeed. So I drove (I did not run this time, haha) downtown and parked beside the embankment. As I started up from the bottom, I could see the marks in the ice and snow where my fingers dragged. I tried to visualize where and how the ring might travel if yanked off my finger. Not finding anything near the base of the embankment, I decided to walk up the nearby sidewalk. I remembered brushing my hands off and wiping away blood from about 5 or 6 little cuts yesterday … maybe that’s where my ring fell off. I walked up and down the sidewalk a couple times, but didn’t find anything. Doubt setting in, I thought to myself that maybe I was looking too hard and decided to take another look back at the embankment with a bit of a different outlook.
People, I do not know what looking at an embankment with a different outlook is, but I’m telling you I remember thinking it. I also distinctly remember having the feeling that I was going to find my ring. I took the first few slippery steps back up that slope and looked from a different angle – literally, a different angle. And down at the edge of the icy trail on the left side (ring finger side, of course), something caught my eye.
Yup. Yup. No. Way.
There it was, sitting in the icy, snowy grass. In fact, it was looped around a blade of grass.
So that’s a story of a ring. Maybe I can even stretch it to be a story of facing unlikely odds and believing in success. Or maybe it’s a lesson that one shouldn’t run when going to see a mechanic. Look at things differently, think positively, believe in your mission, trust your gut, don’t take shortcuts (this embankment was a shortcut), don’t get married hahaha … whatever you want to believe. I don’t know about you, but the ring is back on my finger and I’m taking it as one of those situations where you’ll never know unless you try.