Small Wonder {Part VII, 2, The Point cont...}

There are two exciting reveals to come in this post {and finally some ring pics!}, so hold on to your hats.

First:  I searched EVERYWHERE all over my apartment, in ridiculous places that could not possibly hold my lost engagement ring for MONTHS. Seat cushions, drawers, pockets, jewelry box (like I said, unlikely places to find my ring).

In pulling apart my night stand, I opened every old purse (bottom drawer) and makeup bag that I came across. Even if I hadn't regularly used them in years, like a little makeup bag pouch where I store nail polish. In my desperation, I dug in there with my greedy, hopeful little fingers, felt something small round and ring-like, and revealed....

My promise ring!!

My lost little baby promise ring that had gone missing, down a gutter somewhere in Los Angeles two years prior, was dangling off the tip of my index finger.

And it came back to me in a quick, reassuring that I'm not completely crazy rush. I {stupid} put the little guy in this bag {idiot} in the midst of my packing disaster mess in LA {disorganized} so I wouldn't lose it!! And I forgot about it just one day later by the time my dad arrived to help pack the car. Story of my stupid idiot disorganized life.

While this revelation did not help me find my engagement ring, I had one condolence that really helps- besides State Farm- which brings me to...

Second:    The ring I lost? My Grandmom's ring? That I should tell you I felt bad about having, and the "nice" person that Marc says I am made CERTAIN that it was okay with my paternal cousins, uncle and aunt that I had it.

This ring? Was not Grandmom Kelly's first engagement ring. No, no... she was no remarried. She LOST her first ring. She claimed it was stolen off the windowsill when she was washing dishes.  I like to think of it as one of her delicious steaming pies quietly snatched off the windowsill by Yogi Bear. In Northeast Philly.

No one makes pie like Grandmom Kelly did.  {That's a side note, not a metaphor}.

So I thought that every time I looked at my new ring, I'd feel a pang of guilt. Instead, the sparkliness of the gorgeous replacement that Marc and I chose together makes me smile, and makes me think of my Grandmom Kelly and her own guilt over ring number one. I like to think that she looks down on me with a little bit of disappointment sure, but with understanding and pride that I replaced her precious replacement with this:

{All these amateur pictures were taken by me with Marc's sweet camera. E-ring is Tacori from Michael C. Fina, gold ring is the promise ring}

Ring story quick recap:

Marc asks me out with a ring. We finally go on our first "date/hangout" run in the park and I lose my class ring- like it flings off my finger somewhere. Marc symbolically replaces class ring with promise ring which {symbolically} holds our relationship together for 4 years. We move to LA together and live in a tiny studio apartment and life gets more trying and I develop an itch from the promise ring and lose it  {obvi could be symbolic again, but we stuck it out}. The empty space on my left ring finger is finally filled again with my family heirloom engagement ring. I lose this one, but it's okay because my grandmom lost hers too so its not like it was a several-generation heirloom or anything {eh, I try}. I miraculously find my lost promise ring in my search for the lost e-ring {WHAAAT?}, proving once and for all that our love is true! {read: St. Anthony couldn't help me with the e-ring, but he thought we're a good couple and gave me back the promise ring}. And then we save up enough {Marc got a job} to replace it with the perfect symbol of our love.

And soon, we get to pick our wedding rings and who knows what will happen.

So once again, I'm a jerk. I'm really sorry. But look at the super fun story we got out of it!!