New York, Nu York: A Minor Miracle Happened Here

 My mother died late August 1999, two months after my wedding. My father handed me her wedding ring and told me to hold onto it, which I did for many years. In fact, I often wore the ring in addition to my own. But then two or three years ago, I lost the ring. I suspected it might be somewhere in my house, and I asked my family and our cleaning lady if they had seen it, but with no success. I felt badly about this, and kept quiet after my initial search.
I've long enjoyed wearing rings and have bought myself a variety of rings, cheap kitschy ones as well as some with gemstones, but I have also lost a few of them or broken them. Once I lost the red stone from a ring because a door in a Parisian synagogue slammed on my hand: while I didn't break a finger (whew) I saw the tiny rock skitter on the floor and fall into a grate! I tried to rescue it but had no luck. 
I lost the stone of another ring one time and have absolutely no idea what really happened to it, although I have wondered if it ended up inside a plastic bag I may have been carrying, full of groceries. Ugh. And I lost a cute penny ring that I wore on my pinkie, which I had purchased at the Mint in Philadelphia. I hope to buy another to replace it some time. And many years ago I lost a cheap ring that had a yin-yang design on it. (Oh, and I have lost some earrings over the years as well. I don't have a great track record, do I?)
But this morning I was reunited with my mom's wedding ring, totally by chance! I walked into my younger daughter's room, to grab her full laundry bag, and I saw a few things lying on the floor next to a pile of underwear. More than a bit surprised, I saw a gold ring on the floor and realized it was the missing ring! I was so happy and mystified by this.
I told my daughter that I had found the ring on her floor and she was surprised as well. Apparently, the night before, she had taken out a pile of clothing and had begun sorting out items that no longer fit her. She then grew sleepy and decided to go to bed. But the ring must have been in the pile of clothes, and had fallen out. She claimed she did not even notice the ring on the floor! 
I took the ring and with a feeling of mild elation, I placed it in a small box of jewelry I keep on my night table. And I did the modern version of crowing with delight, which is to say I wrote about this joyous event on Facebook and for this very blog.
But I also turned to a Jewish-themed Facebook page and asked people what I should do to celebrate, and which bracha I might recite to show my thanksgiving for this. I recited the Shehecheyanu. I also plan to give money to a charity (have to think of which one). 
This minor miracle is so wonderful to me; I had always wondered if it was hidden somewhere within the house, lying unnoticed and forlorn somewhere. And apparently it was. Both my parents, may they rest in peace, would be pleased by this news. And maybe it was not a complete fluke that my daughter found it; she resembles my mom in certain ways, and is artistic in ways that my mom was as well. So I plan to take care of this ring, and think of the small miracle of its repatriation. Huzzah!