Saved From the Drain
On the eleventh day of Christmas...
On the eleventh day of Christmas, in the twenty-second hour, as I was getting ready for bed, my Nativity necklace fell down the sink.
I’d worn that necklace every day for the last fifteen-plus Advents and Christmastides, more than any other piece of jewelry except for my wedding rings. It was quite simple, a silver scene of the Holy Family under a cubic-zirconia star, but I loved it. When I felt it slipping from the chain, I grabbed for it, but it was gone. I wrestled the drain-thing off the drain, but I couldn’t see it; the momentum from the descent down the bowl of the sink sent it not only down the drain, but back along the pipe. I started to cry.
My husband isn’t a plumber, but he is a husband, and he set about immediately to retrieve it. After confirming that it couldn’t be fished it out from above, he started unscrewing pipe caps and dismantling the drain. “Can you bring me a bowl?” I could.
We found the necklace almost immediately. While I went to work washing it off, he started putting the pipes back together. They sort of fit, but sort of didn’t. Where the pipe entered the wall, it got tricky, and then it got trickly. We couldn’t use the faucet, because we didn’t want water to drip down the inside of the wall. It was late; we were tired; we would have to call the landlord in the morning.
We did call the landlord, and he came over in the afternoon. He assured my husband that the intrawall connection was tricky—it wasn’t just him—and, together, they got it fixed. They talked about some other minor maintenance issues that had been collecting over time, and got most of those sorted out, as well.
As they were discussing bathroom heat and crooked doors, I was in the living room on my computer. I am sure, during that time, that my fingers found their way to my necklace, because I have a habit of playing with it unconsciously when I’m thinking about things.
I’m playing with it now. This simple, precious, holy thing has been down the drain and come back up. It has broken the pipes, but not irredeemably. It created an inconvenience that turned out for the better. And despite it all—because of it all—it’s still right here: Within my reach, whether I’m conscious of it or not, comforting, shining, and present. It’s like it never left.