One of those days...
Gather all the trash, load up the car, and drive five miles to realize that the transfer station is closed on Wednesdays.... bring the smelly mess back to Mom's house.
Drive ten miles to run other errands and hear Mom say in a panic "Where's my ring?" She has lost her ring. She has lost the ring that W__ gave her, she's never taken it off, and it's not on her hand. I pull the car over and she starts looking everywhere, in her pockets, on the car floor, she then dumps out her purse.
She starts to tear up, "It was the ring W__ gave me."
So much for our other errands - turn the car around.
Ok, Mom, we'll backtrack and try to find it. All I'm thinking is, thank goodness the transfer station was closed, I don't have to go dumpster diving to find a ring. (Trash bags yes, dumpster no!) We checked the post-office. We check the driveway at home. We checked the dryer, the pile of clean laundry, her pockets again (Mom always walks with her hands in her pockets.)
I'm thinking this ring could be anywhere. Mom has lost a lot of weight in the past few years, because of her lack of cooking and desire to eat, she is shrinking, her fingers have become bony. That ring could be anywhere.
I check the bathroom sink area, it's not there. Check the towels and hamper. I don't immediately check the kitchen sink area, because she doesn't use the kitchen anymore.
I start poking at the mountain of photographs spread out on the table. The pile she has been sorting through for months. Look around on the floor, nothing.
"Here is it." she coos. "How did it get here? I never take it off." It's with all her other jewelry! She has threaded it onto a necklace with her high school and college rings. "I never take that ring off, W__ gave it to me, how did it get here?"
I don't know Mom, I don't know.