The Epic of Earringmess or Earring Love-loss

The quality of the earring doesn’t matter. The cardboard-cut pain of it. . .The earring is the worst because you have the constant reminder of the remaining earring. The pain and worry that you feel for the little guy out on its own is indescribable. I have a whole section in my jewelry box dedicated to single earrings: Single earrings; that are too nice to get rid of.

On Wednesday night, when I had Carolyn over for dinner, I noticed I had an earring missing. My heart sank into my stomach and then they both sank together. It was a part of my favorite pearls. I wore them at least four days a week, usually more. White gold with a simple pearl drop. I called them my ear baubles (GWTW reference.) There are no words to use to describe how bad it feels to lose an earring, especially one that’s been in habitual, if not constant use that don’t seem melodramatic or insufficient. I couldn’t find the earring anywhere. I looked all over the Garden, the vestibule, and the immediate adjacent areas, but at the time it was of course dark. I was crushed, but was determined for it not to ruin my dinner plans with my new neighbor. So I pulled it together, and even said a silent mantra to feel better about it.

I told Sidney about the loss when he called while he was on his lunch, and he mourned with me, but I don’t think he felt the full lemon-juice-in-the-wound burn; the utter dejection and disappointment in life and the potential goodness of it. The next day I was still bummed and wore no earrings in protest. On Friday I woke up and knew that I had to move on(besides, Friday is the day in my hair washing cycle where I wear my hair up, so earrings on Friday are mandatory), and I wore my second most worn earrings, for when I want to be a bit whimsical.

Hand-crafted by the lovely Brigid

At about ten o’clock that morning, Sidney called and asked the specifics about which earring I lost, and reported that he had found the earring. “Where?” By the dumpster outside. “Whoa.” The earring was outside for two nights all on its own? Suffering the elements? Only to be discovered by my loving husband? My hero.

My HERO

It made my, up until then crummy, day!! It brought a huge smile to my face. And the relief I felt was not unlike the relief you feel after surviving a car wreck. I’ve been telling everyone the story because it’s so remarkable and I’m so grateful and happy it’s been found.

I told my friend Libby about it and she felt for me deeply when I told her about it. (She’s the one that provided the car wreck analogy.) She told me the story of a lost pair of earrings. . opal-colored pearls, loved for two years straight, one gone forever down the drain and just it’s nearly-congenital twin flailing helplessly alone. “The band of sisters,” she called us.  She reminded me that every woman has a great earring love-loss story to tell, and we always feel for each other, then I told Libby how Sidney found her(the earring). And she said “That made MY day. I’m totally serious! That’s amazing; UNBELIEVABLE! You should blog about this!”

Reunited and it feels so good.