We were a non-traditional sort of a couple. It didn't bother me to not have an engagement ring.
Until, one day, it did.
I visited a friend who had known my Daniel longer than I had. She once flatted in a house he had owned many years before. I told her about my wish.
She calmly went to another room and brought back a thick banded gold ring with a faceted garnet, set sideways, high on golden claws, which she placed in my hand.
She told me 'Daniel was having house repairs done. He was away overseas. The builder pulled out the sink and found this ring behind the wall. He threw it to me, saying 'I guess it's your lucky day'. I have held on to it, believing one day it would be needed. Here is your ring. It was meant to be yours, from Daniel'.
I loved the ring. I wore it proudly, always wishing I knew more of its origins.
On the day Daniel and I travelled to Taranaki, coming to the first Womad, we stopped in at Mokau Museum. There was a very odd little old book there, listing the names and occupations of residents from long ago. Just from one early Auckland suburb. That of a St Mary's Bay villa, where Mrs. Leo Thomson, wife of a merchant, had lost a ring, down the back of a sink, a very long time ago.
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