We thought for certain it had fallen into the depths of his piano, during a tuning session. We looked into the bowels of that complicated instrument. No ring.
We thought for sure it was in his workshop, having fallen into a pile of wood shavings after he removed it for tool-gripping comfort. We swept and sifted. No ring.
We figured it must be in our bedroom, dropped down behind the nightstand or his dresser. We searched and rummaged. No ring.
I decided I'd make him a new one, and quick, lest some unknowing lady try to catch his eye, believing him to be single. Still no ring.
Nearly two seasons have passed by sans ring. Next week, we will celebrate 11 years since the first time I put a ring on his finger, and I didn't want our anniversary to sneak by without a replacement. So last night, I finished his new wedding band and slipped it on his finger. Finally, a ring.
"The A Ring" is now listed in my shop.