May this kind of thing happen to all our friends on Roversfans.com
Jenny Frecklington-Jones was 14 when it
first came into her life. A gold ring with engraved moons and stars, given to her by a boy who saved for a whole week to buy it. When she unceremoniously dumped him, she solemnly returned the ring too, and (with a flare for the dramatic) he threw it away. It flew all the way down the road and landed in a grassy paddock, disappearing with a glint. Fast-forward two decades and Frecklington-Jones, 34, runs into the boyβs sister β who is, incredibly,
wearing the ring. He made his family search for hours to find it, the sister told her, and she felt it fitting to return it to Frecklington-Jones. Turning it over in her hand, βI decided this ring was always going to come back to me no matter what,β she says. So she started lending it to people who were afraid of flying. This ring is a survivor and will keep you safe, sheβd assure people. And it always found its way back to her.
One day, a man posted it back to her, but when Frecklington-Jones received the envelope, she spotted a ring-sized hole in it. βThere you go,β she thought sadly. βItβs never coming back again.β She let Australia Post know it was missing β even though a ring was a needle in a monumental and constantly moving haystack. A perfunctory email back made her sure: it was gone. Then, one day, out of the blue, another email. Somehow, miraculously, they had
found the ring. It was spotted in the bottom of a sorting machine in Adelaide, the worker told her. βSure enough, 2 days later there was a package in my mailboxβ¦β Frecklington-Jones says. She tore it open and gazed at the ring in the palm of her hand, glinting up at her mischievously. It still goes with people on trips all around the world to soothe their nerves, she says. And it always comes back to her.