Lost Without It

Me without my right hand ring is like not having a right hand at all. Friday night seemed normal enough. Nothing out of the ordinary. Exchanged texts with a friend and laughed about his upcoming gigs. Worked out. Took a cold bath but washed my hair standing over the tub, bent under the faucet. Later, I read a chapter in bed, a cool sheet draped over my knees. Coming into the home stretch of a really good book I got sleepy. When kisa came to bed I curled around his hip, grateful for the sleep that was coming fast & easy.

I couldn’t tell you what made me notice; what made me panic, but all of a sudden I felt my thumb ring was gone. For nearly 7 years this silver band with cod worn smooth swimming clockwise has not left my right hand. It’s my symbolic home away from home and suddenly it was missing. A strip of pale white skin marked where the ring should have been. Wide awake with panic I jumped out of bed. Kisa frantically asking “what? What? What’s wrong?” but I couldn’t answer him. It all seemed too stupid. This piece of metal was an extension of my, myself & moi. How could I explain that without it I was completely lost? Even now I don’t expect anyone to understand this whatsoever.

Like a madwoman I retraced my steps. Back to where I lifted. Did I fling it off mid tricep kickback? Wouldn’t I feel something like that? Back to where I undressed for the bath…back to the…bath. Oh no. With dread I remembered standing over the drain, my soapy hands scrubbing my scalp, the force of water when I rinsed (Why did we have to have such great, rushing water pressure?!), the open drain….I pictured the ring slipping off oh so easily and sliding down the drain to be lost forever. It was the only logical explanation. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That had to be it. Kisa lured me back to bed and with the sulk of a child I went.

By 4:30am I was awake again and crawling around the living room on my hands and knees searching under the couch and in the folds of the fabric. I pictured calling my sister and asking her for the phone number to the shop where I got the ring 7 years earlier. I was getting desperate enough to have another one shipped to me although in my heart of hearts I knew it wouldn’t be the same. Not finding anything downstairs I was drawn back to the bath. Hypnotized by the thought of the ring going down the drain I tested my theory…with my wedding ring. My $1,000+ wedding ring. Holding it tightly I tried to push it down the drain and discovered…it wouldn’t fit. There was hope my ring of fishes didn’t fit either. 

In the end it was tangled in a tank top I had taken off earlier. Somehow it had lodged itself in the built-in bra and didn’t come loose even after I shook the shirt. I think Kisa was relieved I was happy again. I was happy I found my sanity.