For at least three years I've been searching all over for the family wedding rings: my mother's, her mother's, and the two great grandmas. To the best of my recollections, I had seen them since we moved into this house, but I couldn't find them. Searched everywhere. I do mean EVERYWHERE. Especially the cedar chest where I had a vague memory of seeing them.
Finally, I gave them up for lost in the move, and beat myself up for being a bad daughter, a bad granddaughter and a very bad great granddaughter. How could I have lost these heirlooms? I had already lost my mother's beautiful Christmas pin, for which I can never forgive myself. Now I lost ALL the wedding rings.
I kept searching the same places, but they were never found. Hung head in shame. A few weeks ago we had reason to visit the safety deposit box and there, along with assorted envelopes was a little jewelry box. Inside it were all of the rings. Safe and secure. I wanted to weep with relief.
I returned home and checked the inventory sheet of the deposit box, and they weren't on it, which must mean that I found them and put them in the box having no memory of doing so. I remember once my mother took off her wedding rings and they disappeared to be found much later in a tea cup in the cupboard. Does it run in the family?
Of course, I have no idea of the eventual fate of all of these rings. They'll probably be melted down in some gold frenzy, although I have resisted doing that to really good or sentimental stuff. I recall a popular song, maybe from the Fifties about "a little band of gold." How do I remember the stupid song but not taking the rings to the lock box for safe-keeping? Arrrggghhh.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
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Someplace I still have my mother's wedding ring. Think now I'll go find it
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