Trust.

Many months ago as I was living in my old house, putting things in order I had a tug to look at the little jewelry box where abandoned pieces live. I reached into the second drawer of my jewelry chest, past the old watches and stray Legos and removed a leather box. Inside is where I kept my high school class ring, my old wedding ring, some broken gold, maybe eight 50 cent pieces an elderly neighbor (Mrs. Henderson) doled out to me as a little girl and a gold/ruby bracelet that I had never really worn. All of the items were inexpensive as far as jewelry is concerned but I had plans for them. Some were keepsakes, some would be recycled and some would be sold to pay for something fun…like a new dining room table at the new house.

Notice the use of past tense?

I flipped open that hinged box and all the things I expected to see were gone. GONE.

I was shocked and saddened. I’ve never been burgled. And I’ve got other theft-worthy stuff in my house that was still there so I was certain that whoever had taken my jewelry had been let in.

I don’t let a lot of people in.

After whittling the list down to the most likely suspects, Clayton suggest I just hang back and maybe the items would reappear. Yes! Maybe I had gathered up these valuables and hidden them knowing that strangers would soon be touring my house? Or repairing my house. Or laying carpet. Any number of people. Maybe I had hidden them?! Hooray for early onset senility!

So…I lived my life. I finished painting and cleaning. I shoveled out closets and decluttered. I started and finished packing. As I worked I kept an eye out and kept my mind open. Like the time I was working in the master half bath and thought, “Oh! I bet they are hidden in that hole behind the mirror where the medicine cabinet use to be!”

Nothing ever turned up. It makes me sad. I think I know who took my dinky collection of jewelry and it makes me more sad. I bet the whole lot of it brought less than $1,000. The jewelry wasn’t worth much in the end but the cost of lost trust is great.

Silver lining: They didn’t think the amber I bought in old town Warsaw was worth stealing.