Have you ever noticed how life seems to be a series of the highest highs and the lowest lows, with a lot of mundane, ordinary stretches in between? I recently experienced this. It felt like being on a roller coaster for a few days.
The Highest Highs
What is better than a brand new baby, especially when it’s your grandchild? We met our newborn grandson the first week of July in Nashville. We arrived five days after his birth, just as he was getting settled into his new surroundings.
Oh, the bliss of holding that sweet baby—to feel his little head nuzzle up against me, to watch his slow-motion stretches, yawns, and eye blinks, to follow his gaze as he took in his new reality.
Then there was our number one grandson, who is not quite two years old. He took us on walks to count the “mingos” (miniature flamingos at the end of the block). He can count to five or six, then it gets jumbled up a little. We also enjoyed nightly dance parties orchestrated by this sweet toddler. He would grab each of our fingers, one by one, and lead us to the dance floor in the living room. The joy on his face, as he looked around the circle at his people—parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle, family friend—melted my heart. And he entertained us with his long conversations. He’s learning how to talk so we could only pick up a word here and there and lots of laughing, smiles, and finger-pointing.
We did little while we were in Nashville. There were no trips downtown to count the number of bachelorette parties or dinners out at trendy restaurants. Life slowed down to a pace suited for enjoying grandchildren. My husband and I walked over for breakfast, went for walks, played in the backyard, read books, played with toys, and held the baby. We got takeout for dinner.
One night we held the baby while our son, daughter-in-law, and older grandson enjoyed a home-cooked meal friends had delivered. It was fun listening to their conversation. After they finished eating and getting our older grandson ready for bed, we walked to the neighborhood Mexican restaurant for our dinner.
Another day, while the grandchildren napped, we drove around exploring their neighborhood. We found a spacious park on the river and a nearby golf course. We drove up and down the streets looking at houses and daydreaming about living close to our grandchildren.
We even took part in the baby’s first outing to a child-friendly restaurant with his other grandparents.
It was a special time of family and bonding, but it ended too soon and we drove back to the mountains of North Carolina.
The Lowest of Lows
Twenty-four hours after we left Nashville, I realized I had left my jewelry pouch with all of my favorite jewelry in the little drawer of the nightstand in the bedroom of our Airbnb. I immediately contacted our host to let him know. He said he would contact the cleaning service to ask if they found anything while they cleaned.
The next day, I had a message from the host. The cleaners did not find my jewelry. I was devastated.
I know what you’re probably thinking. Believe me, I agree. I had one of those “if only” moments
- I should not have taken the jewelry on the trip. It was a low-key weekend focused on hanging out with family, so it wasn’t necessary.
- I should have checked every drawer before we left the house. I assure you I will check every drawer in every room from this point forward.
- It was my fault, my carelessness.
Jewelry is just stuff, metal and rock. Jewelry is merely material possessions that we temporarily own but will eventually pass on to someone else. Objectively, it’s not worth that much, but sentimentally, it’s a different story.
There was a necklace that was my mom’s, one I picked out from her jewelry after her death. My favorite bracelets were in the pouch, the ones I often wear. Ironically, one bracelet replaced one I left at the Gaylord Opryland Hotel in 2006. Perhaps I shouldn’t take nice jewelry to Nashville.
The biggest loss was a simple little birthstone ring. It was the best gift I had ever received from my mom.
Mom loved to buy the girls in the family jewelry—usually on our birthdays and Christmas. My mom and I had very different tastes in jewelry, so I didn’t always love her choices. She always said I could exchange it for something else. Sometimes I did.
My grandson’s first Christmas was in 2022. I was a brand new grandmother and my mom was a first-time great-grandmother. She gave me a small box, wrapped in paper from her favorite jewelry store—more jewelry. I opened it and found a small birthstone ring, one small stackable ring. I looked at my mom, confused. It wasn’t my birthstone. My mom, with a knowing smile, said, “It’s Leo’s birthstone. You can add more rings as more grandchildren are born.” I got a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes because it was the most thoughtful gift ever.
So, you understand why losing my jewelry left me devastated.
I know it wasn’t the end of the world and there are definitely more pressing issues in the world today, but my world plummeted. There were sentimental items I would give almost anything to get back. I was so sad and on top of it all; I felt stupid and resigned myself to the loss.
An Upturn And Lessons Learned
Two days later, as my husband and I drove home from dinner, my phone pinged with a message from the Airbnb. The cleaners went back to the house and checked the drawer where I knew I had left my jewelry and it was there. They found it! I was ecstatic! I thought all was lost, but it wasn’t. Within five minutes, my son picked up my jewelry pouch from the house cleaner. It is now safely in his possession and I should get it when I see him at an upcoming wedding.
I’m so thankful. I have learned my lessons—practical lessons like checking and double-checking the drawers before I leave a property. But more important, not to give up hope and certainly not to be so quick to blame others for something they did not do. It was a humbling experience.
How about you? Have you experienced highs and lows in life in quick succession? Have you ever lost something important and made the wrong assumption about the loss? I’d love to hear.
Kim Wilbanks 