No Stone Unturned

I lost something rather precious to me tonight.

I was in the middle of dinner, recounting a story about my day in my typical animated fashion, when I lifted my hands in a gesture and caught sight of my left middle finger. My jaw went slack. I found myself staring at an empty space surrounded by four gold prongs.

My mother has had this ring as long as I can remember... probably since before I was born. It's a square-cut yellow topaz, her birthstone (which also happens to be mine), set in a thin band of 10 karat gold accented by a small diamond on either side. I always admired it as a child, and I borrowed it from her a number of times in recent years. Then, about two years ago, she asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said I wanted a birthstone ring like hers. When my birthday rolled around, I opened the small box she gave me and found my mother's ring. She rarely wore it, and she said she figured it would mean a great deal to me, since it had been a gift to her from my dad. Since then, it's been a constant presence on my finger. I only take it off when I'm baking (and I know my hands are going to get messy) or if I'm cleaning it. Needless to say, the loss of the topaz is pretty upsetting to me. I was very nearly to the point of tears as I crawled around the house on my hands and knees searching for it. I hardly heard my mother's reassurances that it'd turn up eventually. My mind frantically drifted over the number of places I'd been to today, wondering in which of those places it could possibly have gotten away from me. It's probably not worth much, monetarily speaking. Topaz isn't a particularly valuable stone, and not nearly as popular as a diamond or emerald. I doubt someone would find it and pocket it. More likely it'd be swept away unseen with a pile of garbage gathered in a dust pan or vacuum. Even if someone did see it, who in the world would they return it to?

With this in mind, I searched in every nook and cranny I could think of... under the seats of my car, on the patio, in the tub, the fridge, the drawer I'd gotten a knife out of to cut my chicken with at dinner. (Don't get me started on what could have happened if it had fallen into my plate while that was going on.) I even went so far as to give my hair the once-over, in case I had inadvertently deposited the gem while running my hands through it. In the end, though, I sat empty-handed, shoulders slumped in defeat. There isn't a place I can think to look that I haven't checked already, but that hasn't stopped me from doing it. Right now I'm feeling a little helpless. And I'm probably taking this a little too seriously. I've been in a place lately where I've been thinking entirely too much, and I was already feeling a little down when I noticed the stone was missing. And of course, to an overly analytical person like myself, it's very easy to take it as a bigger indicator that I can't be trusted with anything pretty or valuable, because it's a pretty safe bet that if you give me something like that, I'm eventually either going to lose it or break it.

There's an old saying that goes "If you love something, set it free..." I always thought that was kind of stupid. And there was a time several years ago when I was looking for my high school ring, and I mentioned it to a friend of mine that I'd lost track of it. She was a rather eclectic person, and she suggested that perhaps it wasn't meant to be mine. I thought that was rather stupid, too, especially since it seemed ridiculous that a ring I had planned the design of, that had my name engraved on it, and that I had spent a hefty sum of money on, was meant to belong to someone else. (For the record, I never found that one, either.)

I kind of doubt I'll ever see the little square topaz again. It's too small, and there are too many places where I could have lost it. I suppose eventually I might have another stone put in the setting, although it'll never be the one my dad gave to my mom. Still, I've got the biggest part of the ring. The band and the diamonds are still there. And sometimes, just having the empty space is unbearable. If the missing stone never turns up and I can find something to fill that hollow that was left in its place, I think I'll be okay with it. I could see it as a small consolation that I took something that had elements of both my parents and added something of my own to it, too.

There have been a number of things I've been trying to come to terms with lately. One of them is that searching and searching for something just because you want so badly for it to be there isn't going to make it magically appear. I've never been one to shy away from learning a valuable lesson, even from something as small as a vanishing gemstone. An empty space is not easy to deal with, but I'm not going to attempt to fill it until I've found something I'm happy with. There is always the possibility that the stone will turn up on its own, and if it does, I'm going to make sure I do whatever I can to keep it from happening again.

Until then, though, the little four pronged setting sits in my jewelry box, patiently waiting on its next occupant, whatever it might be.