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The ring wasn't there. An emotional tsunami washed over me - shock, horror, remorse, anger, powerlessness, and when it pulled back, all that was really left was guilt, a potential life sentence of guilt. Hoping against hope, it had not been dropped on the beach, I looked everywhere else. Maybe the car, I stripped it to no avail. Maybe the veranda where I dried off the dog, no luck. Maybe the house, nothing. It must have been the beach, an area stretching 200 metres from the car park, the ring, a very small needle in a very large and tidally wet haystack.
I was out at first light the next day, but with no luck, my spirits dimming. My only hope was this: the wind had been so strong, the ring could have been buried. It might just still be there, somewhere. I contacted local metal detector users. Two came to help, one even lending me his gear. "Take as long as you need," he said.
Days of searching passed forlornly. I found an old cell phone circa 2001, a 50-cent coin and a lot of bottle tops. I rang mum that long week, but was not brave enough to confess. If I had to tell her I'd lost dad's ring, I had to be able to say I'd done everything humanly possible to find it. |
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发表于 2016-11-15 22:40:40