Monday, 13 April 2015

The Lost Ring

I have never really given much thought to my possessions and the value they hold for me. I guess that's mainly because I've never really lost anything.  I mean sure, I lose socks on a daily basis (where do they go?!) and there was that one time I lost my car keys (my daughter had cleverly hid them behind the radiator). But these were all things that I knew were somewhere, they weren't truly lost. 

At the weekend, my husband wanted to go to a local cattle market in Derby.  It's kind of like a huge car boot sale, at a, well cattle market. He had been as a child and had never been since, and for some reason on Sunday morning, he had a determination that he wanted me and my daughter to experience it too. So, at 9.30am on a very cold Sunday morning, we piled into the car and arrived at the market. 

There was quite an assortment of objects and folk at the market to say the least.  You could buy anything from what looked like the first ever camcorders to a pair of African bongos.  My daughter had her little purse with her and was intent on finding a bargain. Her daddy had been giving her bartering tips in the car, "tell them 10p is your final offer", (my daughter is only two and a half).  She ended up buying a small womble, it was Uncle Bulgaria if you are interested, and she was most excited to buy a little ride along scooter for the cost of one whole pound. 

After we had done a loop of the market and I had picked up the scooter and my daughter more times than I can remember, I looked down to suddenly notice my engagement ring was missing.  I immediately knew I had dropped it on the floor. I knew it was definitely on my finger when I got out of the car.  I knew I had it on at the start of our market trip. And I then began to panic.  I retraced my steps, scouring the floor.  But there was so many people, it was so hard and like looking for a needle in a haystack. Me and my husband walked around another 3 times.  No ring. And then I started to cry.  

Yep, right in the middle of the market I started to cry. I just couldn't believe my precious ring was gone.  I have had it for 7 years and I have never ever lost it before.  I spent the rest of Sunday sobbing about my lost ring.  I cried for all of the things it means to me. For all of the amazing times I've had whilst wearing it. For all it symbolises to me.  My husband gently reminded me that although it was special, it was a possession.  That its memories and meaning could be remembered.  That I had many other things to be grateful for.  That we were lucky we hadn't lost my daughter on her new scooter to a herd of cows at the market. And he is so right. 

But, for this week I am doing everything in my power to find my ring. I truly believe in the kindness of total strangers.  I have a hope that it may be given in.  Today, I have spoken to countless people regarding my ring and I have been amazed at their kindness. Strangers willing to ring around and contact the cleaners of the market to see if it has been found.  Shops who are willing to put up notices. Pawn shops who will inform staff. Strangers on twitter who have re-tweeted my plea.  A man who told me about how his daughter had lost her ring in a fridge and how he hoped I was reunited with mine. 

So how do I end this blog? A funny note about how a day at the market was very expensive, that my daughter's scooter is her most expensive present ever? Erm no.  I think I will end it by saying that if my ring is never found, that if all I have are the memories of my ring, that what I will remember is the kindness and compassion of total strangers.  That for all of the truly awful stuff that is far, far worse than losing a ring that happens around the world, right here around us all, are lovely and kind people. And it's only when we really need that kindness we can sometimes find it. 

Thanks for reading, 

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