Panic shot through my veins at the beginning of last week. After I arrived at work, dropped my items off in my office, and used the restroom, I noticed something alarming as I walked back to my work station. My left hand felt a bit lighter. I looked down and confirmed my greatest fear: my wedding ring was missing.

A deep dread overcame me like it did five years earlier when I had another wedding ring crisis. While leaving the gym I realized the ring wasn’t on my finger and worried that it vanished in some random spot while I exercised. Thankfully, after frantically searching the gym to no avail, I found my ring on my car floorboard once I arrived home. Guess I just needed the drive back to the house to clear my head.

Okay, back to last Tuesday. I texted Sid immediately to ask if I left my ring on our bathroom counter. You see, I only take my ring off for two reasons: while exercising and showering. Could I have somehow left it behind while getting ready that morning? Nope. My wife said she actually cleaned the counter that morning and my ring wasn’t there. Oh, shit.

I started retracing my steps within Hargreaves Hall, the building I work in at Eastern Washington University. My immediate thought was that my ring came off somewhere within that facility because the unmistakable sense of my hand feeling lighter didn’t come until after I used the restroom. After searching throughout the building and coming up empty, I was pretty dejected. Pull it together, Brent, you need to get to work.

It was lost but now it is found.

However, before I summoned the mental toughness I needed to be productive, I decided I would re-trace my steps all the way back to my car. I took the same three-block path (in reverse) I forged into work 20 minutes earlier. Nothing. But then I latched onto a tiny bit of hope as I reached my Ford Escape. Perhaps, just like what happened five years ago, my ring had fallen off inside my vehicle. Nope. I looked everywhere and it definitely wasn’t there.

With it now almost 8:15 a.m., I had to muster the professionalism to begin the work day and hope my ring would turn up. As I started the walk back to Hargreaves Hall, a thought entered my brain. Acting upon it, I plunged my hand into my left pocket and felt around. BINGO! My fingers touched a circle-shaped metal object. Mystery solved.

At some point, most likely as I entered the restroom and took my hand out of my pocket, the ring must have slipped off my finger and descended to the bottom corner of my pocket. Yes, it wasn’t lost on me that I went on a panic-fueled wild goose chase to find a ring that was on my person the whole time, but I didn’t dwell too much on that. I just felt gratitude and relief that such a meaningful possession of mine was not lost.

A wedding ring is simply a symbol and can be replaced…I know that. But the thought—and even the 25-minute reality—of losing such a visual object of my commitment and love for Sidney is heart wrenching. I am grateful that my ring is currently secure around my finger and hopeful that it will remain that way in the years to come. Don’t Blink.