Last night I lost one of my earrings. I noticed it while I was driving home after karate class. Suddenly I realized my ear was nekkid.
They aren't expensive earrings, but to me they are almost priceless.
Rich bought them for me on our first date. (Our first date lasted six days. Remind me to tell you about that sometime.) We were in South Haven, on Lake Michigan. They were in a little jewelry shop on one of the piers. Just little silver dangley things with a small garnet set in each one.
I've worn them almost every day since then. Almost every day, for more than eleven years.
I love them because they are comfortable, and small, and I can sleep in them, and talk on the phone in them. They are perfect; simple and understated,
just like me, HA!
But mostly I love them because they are the first thing Rich ever gave me. The first jewelry he ever gave me (there has been more since, but other than my wedding rings and the locket he gave me on our wedding day, these earrings mean the most to me). The first "just because I really like being with you" spontaneous thing he ever did for me.
I've asked the karate studio to keep an eye out for it, but it's small. And I was all over the studio yesterday, including training in their back room. And then I stood out in the parking lot for a while talking with one of the other moms.
I'm really sad about losing this. I was near tears last night after searching the car. It seems "significant" some how, and not in a good way.
Our ten-year wedding anniversary is next week. I can't help but feel that this is a bit "omen-ish."
I know I could ask Rich to buy me another pair. And I know he would, an even nicer pair I'm sure. But I've already told him we can't do a fancy ten-year celebration dinner out, because funds are tight right now. I'd rather pay for therapy for Noah than dinner for us. And I'm certainly not going to spend money on jewelry when I think we are going to need to get Noah glasses next week.
So yes, it feels "omen-ish," because I know what it is. It's a warning.
A warning that I'm getting my effing period and the wicked PMS is starting to hit. Because seriously, I lost a freaking earring, not my husband.