Shhh! Scribbler at Work

Diamonds ARE Forever

(prompt: 'bury' 22/6/2018)

On a hot morning of yesteryear, in my usual bleary-eyed fashion I began my normal wake-up routine. Nature call; wash hands and face; quick comb of hair; an essential strong first cup of coffee; turn on computer; sip coffee whilst idly checking fingernails. Hmm... one thumbnail needs attention, and stretched my fingers wide to check the rest. I swear my heart stopped for several beats.. then pounded painfully in my chest and thundered in my ears.

A great black hole stared back where my diamond should be. Despite the reality of my vision, my brain refused to register the gaping hole. I turned my hand every which way, desperate to see that beloved glint. Over and over I checked the claws of my engagement ring, frantic now - but nothing was cradled within their protective clasp.

I checked my desk, upturning my keyboard and shaking it. The floor? Nothing on or around my chair. I retraced each step to the bathroom. On top of the van ity unit? Dropped as I dried my hands? Again... no. I painstakingly studied every square of the tiled floor and the polished wooden boards of our kitchen/dining area; the kettle and cupboard tops. Nothing.

In our bed? Perhaps snagged under my pillowcase as I slept? No, no... NO! I woke Kanute and cried. He comforted me and in his usual practical fashion, first checked every inch of our bed and the carpeted floor, then 'walked' me through every move I'd made since I awoke. We swept floors and vacuumed and examined each dusty collection with a magnifying glass. Every knothole and join between floorboards and skirting; every ridiculous spot we could imagine was studied in minute detail in brightest torch-light, always certain we would see that beautiful gem gleaming back its secret presence.

Later the area included the front lawn where I had played with Benji the night before. I had constantly ruffled the thick coat of our long-haired German Shepherd as I rolled on the grass with him. It seemed a likely spot as I'd gone directly to bed afterwards. What a painful search. Imagine how many tiny droplets of dew glisten in the sunlight - exactly like a diamond? How many times would our hopes and spirits rise then heavily fall, again and again? Even Benji couldn't escape a thorough search in case of entanglement somewhere on him.

The 'Black Hole' grew larger and emptier each time I looked, until finally we admitted defeat and phoned our insurance guy. As always, in our 30+ years of service, he gave us our first good news in this nightmare situation. Our insurance WOULD cover a new diamond and its replacement, after a written jeweller's quote approved by his company.

On close examination, the jeweller found a tiny distortion of the claws on one side, where the errant diamond had likely slipped away. I sadly remembered knocks to my hands as we manhandled the endless boxes during our house move a few weeks before. No harm was detected by the naked eye, so I'd relaxed. A painful lesson learned - regular jeweller visits for a quick peek with his trusty one-eye magnifier for the earliest signs of damage or wear.

Finally my treasure was back where it belonged, sparkling its usual level of brilliance. Under strictest instructions, nothing about the setting had been changed, due to my strong feelings about never joining the updating and remodelling trend so many women embrace (some even getting a larger diamond as they become more affluent). Nothing could possibly mean the same as that breathless day the original was first slipped onto that important finger.

IS the resting place of my late dearly departed diamond a cold burial down a small crack or ant-hole in our front lawn? If so, can you imagine someone, someday, creating a new garden bed - and turning over a shovel of dirt to find a diamond?

Will that be rich soil, or what?