Suffice it to say, screaming, horrific terror reigned for most of the night. I climbed in the moving truck, flashlight in my teeth, crawling over our packed furniture to try to peer into a dresser that I thought MIGHT house my errant wedding ring. I couldn't open the drawers to find out if it was there, so I sat down in my empty apartment and sobbed. I believe I even flung myself dramatically across a suitcase, keening. My husband offhandedly mentioned that I might have accidentally thrown it out. There was a loaded silence before I ran out to the garbage cans behind the building, leaving a trail of my own tears.
Here's where the weirdness happens: I tore open a garbage bag that I had dumped a couple of hours earlier. I sorted through the trash, gulping back my own sobs. Eventually, I saw something gleam in the lone streetlight that illuminated our alley and felt my heart rise with hope. I brushed away the dust and effluvia, thinking that my misery was ended. What I found, though, was not my wedding ring, but a ring that I had given up for lost two full years ago. A ring nearly identical in style to my wedding ring that I had purchased from the same store that sold my husband my wedding ring.
Fast forward to last Thursday, when I finally unearthed the dresser from the moving truck... As soon as it was cleared, I tore the drawer open, dug through it and found my wedding ring.
Had I not misplaced my wedding ring, I would never have dug through the trash to find that missing ring. It would have been sent to a landfill, never to be found. I don't know if there's a lesson here or not, but I am kind of, sort of awed by the serendipity of it all...