Years Later, the Miracle on Main St.
Immediately upon the stunning discovery of my loss, a sharp pain of remorse penetrated my insides. It happened some 20 years ago, while cleaning out the iris and rose bush beds in the courtyard to the rear of my apartment at 72 Main in Cold Spring.
Startled I was to realize my wedding band had slipped from my finger. It was a bright, balmy mid-April morning, waiting anxiously to be revitalized by my annual ritual of raking out winter’s stagnant refuse while promising fresh new earth. Irises and roses could then recreate themselves into their traditionally joyous gloriousness.
As if lightning had darted across my mind, I became instantly aware of having been married some 30 years. That band of gold was worn on that special day my beloved wife and I were wed. With Scottish determination I spent numerous hours sifting through where I’d been working, hoping to catch a glimpse of gold. Such, however, was not to be. Shortly thereafter, Mary and I purchased a new band, which I promised, smilingly, to guard with my life!
And then, very recently, Caryn, the lovely young lady who is proprietress of the “Kismet” gift shop below my apartment, was cleaning her yard area adjacent to her shop. Then, as if a “long ago California prospector,” she had struck gold!
There at her feet reposed my ever so-long-ago lost wedding ring, staring up at Caryn’s incredulous gaze amidst years of grime, rubbish, and decayed grass and leaves. So extraordinarily unbelievable was her discovery that words failed us both in explaining how such a miracle could have ever been conceived, after the great duration of 2 decades.
This story concludes with an irony that too appears beyond comprehension: the moment Caryn unearthed my jewel was just a few short days before what would have been my wife’s and my 49th wedding anniversary.
Were it possible, I’d have emailed my dear wife in Heaven, breathlessly relaying the astonishing news. I know she’d be overly ecstatic, as I am.