The Lost Ring

My friends say that I am stoic. In fact, they claim that I am too stoic for my own good.

I think the fact that I am able to deal with my most polarizing and dramatic feelings by writing them out makes me appear much more stoic than I really am.

But I'd rather be stoic than a blubbering mess.

I blubbered this past weekend.

On Friday afternoon, my friends and I drove up to Provincetown again. As we were parking the car, I tugged a bit at my earlobe. It is a nervous gesture that I probably do I hundred times a week. But this time, as I tugged I realized something was missing.

When my son was born, my husband gave me a pair of diamond earrings. My husband isn't much for sentimental or extravagant gifts. He's straightforward with his love and practical and generous in his giving. But these earrings meant the world to me.

They represented that moment when I knew clearly that our family was complete. We were extremely lucky to conceive and bare two healthy children in relative ease. I was extremely lucky to be married to a man who loves me as much as I love him. The earrings weren't a reward or a symbol. But they were special.

I put them on that day and never took them off.

I sat in the car on Friday stunned for a moment. How could it really be missing? Where could it be? I frantically looked all over the car, but I knew that I couldn't remember when I had it last. It could be at home or in a parking lot somewhere.

I had a moment when I teared up, but I didn't want to ruin my friends' day. And I still thought I might find it at home. I hadn't let it go yet.

When we got home that night, my friends helped me look for my earring. But once I didn't find it in the bathroom where I brushed my hair or in the room where I changed my clothes, I knew I had to give it up for lost.

It's just an earring, I kept telling myself. I knew it was true, but it didn't stop the hurt. I don't usually get so attached to objects. But that earring had been a part of me for five years.

I sobbed that night. I admit it. So much for stoic. My best friend asked if I wanted to call or e-mail my husband, but I didn't think that was a good idea. That just wouldn't be fair. I knew I'd move beyond it sometime soon. I didn't want my husband to worry about my emotional state.

My best friend also asked me what my husband would say. I knew exactly what he would say.

"It's just an earring, Karen. We'll replace it."

When I finally talked to my husband on Saturday and told him about my lost earring, he said exactly what I thought he would. "It's just an earring, Karen. We'll replace it."

But I don't want another earring. I still have everything those earrings represent. That's what matters. Maybe some day I'll have the remaining diamond set into a pendent or something, but it's time to move on.

It is just a piece of metal after all.