Unsolved Mystery

I did something last night that I've done a thousand times over the last five years.  I woke up with an idea where to find my lost wedding ring, then I got out of bed to look before the thought dissipated.  Maybe I'd been wearing an apron that day and dropped it into the pocket.  It wasn't there, so I went back to bed.  Of course it wasn't there though, that wasn't the first time I'd had that idea.

The "it" is really a "them."  My wedding and engagement rings were not soldered-a purposeful decision because I wanted to travel without wearing my diamond.  I'm a person frequently prone to removing my rings for one reason or another: digging in dirt, exercising, bathing the kids.  I'm also a person of habit though: put them together and slide them to the corner furthest from the edge of a nearby countertop.

We were having our first barbecue in the new house.  I was preparing food and frequently washing my hands.  I remember my agitation at repeatedly drying around my rings, so I took them off.  My last positive memory is using a blue Christmas towel hanging on the stove to dry my hands and the rings I was holding. (Yes it was August, but we hadn't fully unpacked and I could only find holiday-theme towels).  Within 15 minutes I knew they were misplaced, but soon after guests had begun arriving, so the search would be delayed until they'd all departed.

Every corner of every counter, every piece of trash or recycling, every drain catch, every kitchen drawer was searched for the missing rings.  My oldest hadn't come into the house at all, and my youngest was barely two and not yet countertop height, so involvement from both could be ruled out.  And how odd that they would both be missing.  If I had mistakenly knocked them off the counter, what are the odds they would have landed in the exact same mysterious location?

That fateful day our office had a desk and two chairs, and stacks of boxes yet to be unpacked.  I thought possibly I'd thrown everything I'd cleaned up into that black hole, and my rings were hidden amongst the piles.  But after all these years, each box has been meticulously sorted through, all pants pockets checked, heating ducts searched, appliances moved, and couch cushions upended.  No sign of the rings.

The more time that passes, the less clear my memory of the scene becomes.  Sometimes I wake up to check places that didn't even exist when my rings were lost, like the pantry shelves or my bookcases.  Sometimes I'm motivated to remodel my kitchen, because I'm sure the demolition will reveal the rings.  Sometimes I wonder if I should try hypnotism to jog my memory.

I have not given up hope.  I hear stories all the time about lost treasures found.  I can't bring myself to buy a replacement, because I already have a ring, I just don't know where it is.  Friends and family have taken apart my home sure they know a spot I haven't checked. If only.  It's an unsolved mystery for now, but I just know one night I'll awaken suddenly with the clue I've been missing.