The Perpetual Lost and Found
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I am making a concerted effort not to let it bother me anymore. In my former days, (which was not all that long ago) I would sometimes declare sanctimoniously that if I kept MY kitchen the way he kept HIS shop, we’d never eat. No one has to LOOK for my things. I KNOW how to put everything away. Yada. Yada. Yada. I wasn’t nice.
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She lamented all the times she had chided her husband for being late. No matter how many times she asked, he just couldn’t get home on time for dinner. She’d yell; he’d duck his head. Years of this routine. Then he died unexpectedly. He’d never be walking in late again. Belatedly, she wished she could thank him for working so hard and providing so much. Now her home was a desperately lonely place. I closed the magazine. It may have been a random magazine, but the message was for me.
Lost items are now opportunities. Random screwdrivers, drill bits, guitar picks, keys, wallet, and at least a half-dozen electronic devices are all my chance to give some love. Finding the lost brings me closer to the one who works so hard for me.