I lost my wedding band and a ring my husband bought me from Ayre Scotland, both of which I loved not only for their sentimentality, but also for their unique design and look.

The snow is falling yet again and all I can think is my two rings are out there on the ground in a shopping mall parking lot where I unknowingly dropped them, and now they're being snowed upon, unless someone has found them, kept them, and the rings are sporting a new hand, doing new things.

When I think of where those rings have been in the past five years the countries they have visited, the people and things they have touched, its amazing that now they should be in such a foreign place. Are they on the ground? I searched the parking lot for over an hour. No, they are on someone's hand or perhaps already sitting in a pawnshop waiting for a new owner to rescue them. But for me they are lost, gone forever, and I mourn their loss like two friends now missing, living a life somewhere else.

It all began on a Saturday morning. I was sitting in our van with my husband and daughter making the half hour drive to the mall. We were talking, laughing, and anticipating the rare adventure of shopping and lunch together.

My hands were dry. No problem. I always keep hand cream in the van. I removed my rings and set them in my lap. I creamed my hands and became involved in conversation with my husband about a radio show we were listening to. I could blame Stuart Mclean for the loss as we were listening to a reading of his book The Vinyl Café, but since I met him at a book fair, and he was very nice to me, I think I'll let him off he hook.

When we arrived at the mall, the van was parked and we stepped out to begin our joyous adventure. My husband and I followed our daughter about the mall offering advice on clothes and shoes. We made jokes and laughed, and mercilessly teased one another. Afterwards as planned, we ate lunch and returned home. Total trip time, four hours.

Upon returning home I decided to go to the library. I was forty minutes into browsing the stacks and piling books in my arm when I suddenly realized my hands were naked. I dropped the books and outstretched my fingers. Naked! My stomach turned and panic seized. My rings? Suddenly, I knew. In the lap, forgotten, now lost!

I hurried home. My husband and I searched the van more than once, checking to see if they had fallen onto the floor. They had not.

I wanted to go back to the mall parking lot. My husband said, "You're looking for a needle in a hay stack." "It's a hay stack I have to check," I said. I had hope. On the drive back to the mall I thought of the time my friend Brenda lost her wallet and eventually found it. I had hope. I thought of a friend who placed her wedding rings on a kitchen windowsill. They went missing. A year later her husband was clearing old bird nests from a backyard tree when he found his wife's rings in one of the nests. Apparently, a bird must have picked up the rings and placed them in her nest. I had hope.

I checked with Mall security and lost and found, and left a description of my rings. I searched the parking lot in the place where we had parked allowing for the possibility that someone may have gotten out of their car and kicked the rings unknowingly into another spot. The snow started falling. The evening darkness crept in. Finally I had to abandon hope. I cried.

I know the eternal values are still with me. I have lost my wedding band, not my marriage. I have lost the ring from Ayre Scotland, but not the memories associated with the ring. Ultimately, I still have the items of greatest value that the rings represented. Still I mourn the loss.

The wedding band was custom made, a special design, with ivy leaves deeply engraved circling the band, a symbol of life and growth. My husband still has his lovely band. He said he would go to the jewelers and see if another band can be made. I hope it's possible. As for the Ayre Scotland ring, it truly is a loss. My fingers are still naked, but my heart is fully dressed with precious memories and the ongoing knowledge that the source of value has not left me. I still have the most valuable item in my possession, my husband, my marriage, my family. And for that I am grateful. The rest is just a symbol.