When I woke up yesterday I had no intention of losing my wedding rings. In the morning I hugged Malky the cat  and Ava, my daughter. In the afternoon, I did a silly dance with the curtains wide open, daring my neighbors to judge me. Around five o’clock I indulged in a green bottle of bubbly water while sitting by a glittering summer-filled window. I felt the heat (110F in the shade) radiate on my face and I smiled, happy to be inside. I fidgeted with my rings, as I often do whenever happy thoughts cross my mind. Two hours later, Ava’s bedtime arrived. I carefully placed my rings on the coffee table to lotion up my hands. Ava singsonged across the room, her entire body full of giggles, and asked if she could try the rings on.  I nodded with a smile and she tossed them on her tiny fingers. She said, while dangling her bejeweled hand out in front of her, “I’m mama. What you want? I cook you something.” I remember laughing and I remember …