Lost: garnet earring. Dropped: my bundle.

So, there I was at the hockey tonight, sitting with my son and husband eating McDonalds and watching our daughter's game, when I fiddled with my right earlobe and discovered my garnet earring gone.
That delicate rose gold drop was bought for me (as half of a pair, naturally) at an antique fair at City Hall about 22 years ago, by my husband who wasn't yet my husband.
And, weighed down with the symbolism of the moment, I dropped my bundle.
Anxious strangers were enlisted to look for the earring, but with no success.
I'm hoping it had been missing for hours and will show up on my desk at work tomorrow. Or in the car. Or in my undergarments.
My son, the love, cuddled me and assured me it would show up.
My husband, ever kind and gentle, reinforced the point.
My daughter, later, suggested if it didn't show up that I have the other earring (still in my left earlobe) made into a pendant or ring, so all is not lost.
Fortunately (though not for the player involved, poor darling) one of my daughter's teammates took a whack to the mouth, splitting a lip and dislodging some expensive dental work. At least she stole the spotlight from the sobbing woman on the benchseat clutching her earlobe.
And play resumed.