I had an engagement ring.
Matt gave it to me.
We were on a cruise to the Bahamas.
We were on the deck.
There was a full moon.
Dophins were swimming alongside the boat.
Seriously.
I'm not making this up.
I was wearing a red sundress with white polka dots.
I was 18.
He was 18.
As we were taking in the vastness of the ocean and feeling the wind in our faces he pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it out to me.
I was a little embarassed.
We had already started planning the wedding.
I wasn't expecting a ring.
Yet there it was.
I took it from his nervous hand.
I was holding it in my fingers, not sure what to do.
It slipped, bounced on the deck and plunged into the Atlantic far below.
At least I think it was the Atlantic.
I've never been good at geography.
Not really.
(I mean, it really was the Atlantic (I think), but I really didn't drop the ring. Really.)
But that's what I imagined would happen if I didn't put it on my finger.
So I did.
And there it stayed for the better part of five years.
Until tragedy befell us!
(Cue dramatic music.)
Duh, duh, duh.
I was cleaning the house with a toddler at my feet and a baby on my hip.
After making the beds I looked down to discover that my diamond ring was just a ring with pointy prongs.
The diamond was gone.
Bummer.
I had no hope of finding the tiny diamond in a two story house that contained not only a two-year-old and a newborn, but also all of their accoutrements.
Instead of searching, I mourned the loss and went back to cleaning.
Later that afternoon, as I was sweeping the floor in the kitchen, something caught my eye.
The sun was coming through the french door, glinting off of something on the floor.
My tiny diamond returned home!
But ever the gypsy, it only remained in it's nicely pronged home for about two more years.
It was yet another cleaning day.
(There seems to be so many of them.)
As I was finishing up the last of the dishes I was again confronted with naked prongs.
(That doesn't sound quite right.)
I laughed to myself thinking my diamond was a very determined diamond for sure.
She wanted freedom.
I personally think she was sick of all the cleaning.
Sadly for her, the breakout was only brief.
As I was wiping off the counter later that day what should I spy but my tiny, gypsy diamond huddled up under a bowl of apples.
Since she can't be trusted, she's now in solitary confinement...in a plastic baggie in my jewelry drawer.
Let that be a lesson to you!
I'm not sure what lesson, but there's a lesson in there somewhere.
3 comments:
Oh wow, lost and found twice! Maybe you need a tighter setting for it.
Great story... and great pics... this little girl is adorable!
Manda
haha solitary confinement thats hilarious! but some people are crzy but do need it!! haha
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