We all lose things, but one of my many talents is finding missing objects. My specialty is lost diamonds, right kids? In particular, I have located two different diamonds on three separate occasions. I have witnesses.
The first and second loss was the diamond from my first engagement ring. I was at home doing my favorite chore—laundry. I have been blessed with big fat knuckles, so the diamond is always twirling around my finger.
On the day of my initial loss, I felt an unusual sharpness on my ring finger. I gasped in horror when I saw that the diamond was missing from the setting. I began retracing my steps, convinced I could never locate such a tiny object (this is no reflection on the size of the diamond Dad chose.) I didn’t call him. I couldn’t call him. How could I possibly tell him?
I retraced my steps—family room, kitchen, laundry room. On hands and knees, and then ever so carefully, moving my fingers around my body, hoping to find the diamond on my clothes. But no luck. So now I was trying to decide how to tell Dad, and as I walked toward the phone, I felt an annoying lump in the high-topped boot on my foot.
“Could it possibly be my diamond,” I thought? Trying not to be too optimistic, I slowly removed my boot. I held my breath with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Oh happy day! Hallelujah! I found it.
Now that I found it, I was able to tell your dad. We went to a local jewelry store and picked out a new setting for the formerly AWOL gem. Since the setting needed to be ordered, we brought the stone home, and I carefully placed it in an inconspicuous location. We were going away, and I knew that my jewelry box was not the place to put valuable jewels in case of a robbery. Everyone knows that.
As you all know, when we returned, I was unable to find the diamond. This time, it was really gone. I was devastated. Dad was so nice about it, and replaced it with another.
Years went by, and I scarcely thought of my dear old diamond, until one day, when Dad was on the treadmill. I had gotten behind in my laundry, which is so surprising since it is, as I mentioned previously, one of my favorite chores. I went to his dresser, and at the back, behind some whatnots, I pulled out a rolled-up pair of stretched-out old socks. And what do you think was inside? You guessed it—my original diamond, which has now become a beautiful necklace which I wear every day as a reminder of my carelessness and my everlasting love for Dad.