It’s been a strange week. A week of loss and redemption. OK, not so much redemption, but eureka! This morning I had the sudden, gripping fear that I had forgotten my cell phone even though I had the distinct recollection of putting it in my shirt pocket. My mind raced to a panic. Did it slip out at the gas station? Is it under the seat? I finally realized there was really good music in my car because my phone was on the seat beside me, jacked into the stereo, jamming my tunes. Lost and found.
I was thinking I could use $200. While ransacking my computer case for some long lost important scrap of paper, I found a check for $196. I had shoved that check into my case back in July and uncerimoniously forgotten about it. True to the old adage, “found money is quickly spent,” the very next day I was told I needed a $200 plumbing repair. Found and lost.
Finally, it all came together. The plumbing was repaired. The floor installer made the initial measurements for the floor installation. The headache with my insurance ended happily. And we stand on the precipice of Thanksgiving, the formalized harvest celebration we celebrate each year by elbowing old ladies at the supermarket over the last can of cranberry sauce.
Every year I find myself alive, I pause and give thanks. For the girl I married and the woman she became. For the two daughters she gave me. For the little house the bank lets us live in. For the second moving-out of both daughters and having the little house to ourselves again. For walking around that house with or without my underwear. For the neighbors donating to my “buy some blinds, you pervert” fund. For being able to have a meal with those same kids and the bachelor neighbor who doesn’t really have anyone else at Thanksgiving. For the two little poop machines my wife calls dogs. For everything lost and everything found.
Money and love.
Hair and mass.
Philosophies and practicalities.
Beliefs and hope.
Health and peace.
Everything lost and found.