The Pier

The Pier

Extending out into the river was a narrow wooden pier that floated upon the rippling waves, steamy in a warm afternoon sun.

This was a place I liked to come, to sit inches from the flowing Willamette and breathe deep the serenity of water and sky.

But one day I discovered, in my favorite spot at the end of the pier, a wedding ring lying.

No one was around to query or alert – I was alone with the immense discovery.

And how often does a person find a wedding ring?

It was a simple gold band such as many people wear. No initials, no engravings, no distinguishing marks beyond the scratches of being long worn.

Was it lost? Abandoned? Left by accident? Left on purpose? Did someone want it back? Or never want to see it again?

And . . . why me? Why did I find it?


Why was a wedding ring waiting at the spot where I like to sit on the pier, on the day I decided to go to the river?

Why was it suspended over moving water, the universal symbol of spirit, and not on the shore somewhere?




The event seemed so improbable and strange that it had to be staged – some kind of cosmic communication.

Was it a message about someone else’s life? A message about mine?

So many questions floating by . . .

Drifting downstream . . .

Passing on a river of spirit . . .

Easing past the reach of rational answers . . .



. . . till I could ponder them no longer.


And so,

Thankful for meeting the wondrous wedding ring,

I sat down in my accustomed spot at the end of the pier,

Inches from the flowing Willamette,

And breathed deep the serenity of water and sky.