Skip to main content

Lost Things Found

By Belinda

It has been driving me crazy for months--I lost my box of journals somewhere in the house. I remembered moving them to a safe place when we had a spate of visitors in all of our spare rooms last summer. But where oh where was the "safe place?"

I found myself looking in the same places repeatedly as if I expected that although they weren't there the last time I looked, just maybe they migrated while I wasn't looking and were waiting to jump out and surprise me, "Ha ha--here we are!" Surely I couldn't have accidentally thrown the box away?

Meanwhile, Brenda, also similarly crazed, was looking for a book I'd given her and which she was sure she had packed, ready for her last trip. When she looked for it in the case it wasn't there. She looked everywhere but couldn't find it. How could a book just vanish?

I was determined to find the journals before leaving for England--a self imposed deadline. And so, although we are still in the middle of a heatwave and the loft room is the hottest room in the house, because they just had to be in there somewhere, I planned to drag every box from the storage closet beneath the roof and look inside them.

Opening boxes and looking inside is a misnomer really. I open boxes and get lost in the contents, so it was a very good thing that I only dragged out about five boxes before I opened a lid and glimpsed the silvery green five year diary with a lock but no key--my confidante between the ages of 12 and 16, and the red 1977 journal--I was 27 then--and piles of other journals in different shapes and sizes and colours, some spiral bound and some not--my life at different times and stages.

I heaved a sigh of relief and carried the box into our bedroom, where it is now safely on the floor of a built in closet, easily accessible.

Meanwhile I thought I had better start packing the suitcase that has been sitting beside my bed for a week . I found a black item of clothing camouflaged by the black lining of the case. It that didn't belong to me. I could only imagine it belonged to Brenda or one of the girls. Our cases are in regular family circulation.

It was indeed Brenda's. "Hey, did you happen to find the book in the case?" she asked.

"No, but it could be in an outside pocket," I answered.

She bounded upstairs, unzipped the pockets and with brown eyes sparkling brightly in triumph, shouted, "I've found it!"

Brenda had been going to borrow our case for her last trip, but changed her mind after taking it downstairs to start packing and decided instead to splurge and buy herself an easily identifiable purple case with an orange belt to go around it.

Two mysteries satisfyingly solved!

Actually it was three if I count the drivers licence that Paul has been driving around without, unknown to him. He discovered it was missing on Friday when he needed ID to rent a truck and called home, his voice grave.

"Belinda, I've lost my driver's licence."

I considered asking what he had done, but reconsidered!

"Have you used it lately for anything?" I asked, "What about your passport application?"

"I did photocopy it!" he said slight hope creeping into his voice (this was quite some time ago--months.)

I went into his office, opened up the photocopier lid, while breathing a prayer. There it was! Relief all around!

This seems to be running in the family lately. :)

Comments

What a loss it would be - all those journals, all those thoughts. I'm so glad they've been found and are safely stowed. Hope by the time you read this you are tucked in and comfortable at home.
Belinda said…
It is a treasure Dave. I wanted to bring a particular journal with me and I am so looking forward to reading it.

I am here, safe and sound in Alvechurch--trying unsuccessfully to stay awake after flying the red eye!

Popular posts from this blog

The Most I've Ever Paid for Something I Didn't Want

We were young, that’s my excuse. I was 23 and Paul 26, but already we had done a lot of living in our time together--more than most youngsters of today would have done by then.
We had been married for almost four years, had immigrated to a new country, over 6,000 km away from home and were parents to a 3 and 1-year-old. We owned our own house--or at least two mortgages on the house and had settled down, or so I thought. Paul and I were barely scraping by, but we were making it on one salary, while I stayed home to care for our children.
It is at such times; I have come to understand, now that I am much older, that we should prepare for an adventure, for one is surely coming. 
Paul had a long drive to work, down a highway known for danger in the winter. He felt that we should explore moving closer to his place of work. I was happy in our home--had overcome two years of homesickness and loved our little village in the country. I was not in favour of the proposed move, but I did believe th…

Head Walker to Heart Warrior Part 2

One recent Saturday, I drove to St. Mary's to celebrate the Heritage Day festivities with my daughter. By then I was well into another journey, the search for a peaceful heart.

I had started the two and a half hour drive, early, choosing a route that avoided highways and had just driven through Beeton when the crossing lights up ahead signalled that a train was coming. I slowed to a stop and watched the hypnotic stream of boxcars, a seemingly endless graffiti gallery, gently swaying by on their way. A random surprise art exhibit.
As I drove through the village of Hockley, listening to CBC Radio, the bluesy voice of Canadian jazz artist, Laila Biali kept me company and set me bopping in my seat with her song, Queen of Hearts.  
Along one of the back roads after leaving the town of Orangeville, a big white tent stood in a field with a sign at the gate saying, "Gospel Meeting. All Welcome." The word "gospel," comes from an old English word with two parts: God (go…

Boundaries and Bonds

Almost three years ago, on the first Sunday of my "retired life," I left the church after morning service giddy with newfound freedom. Instead of turning left, from the church driveway, to go straight home, as usual, I decided to turn right, drive to the nearby village and visit my mother-in-law, whom I love.

I found her in her backyard, sitting on a garden swing, beneath a canopy that shaded her from the August sun. She loves to be out in the fresh air and loves to garden. Undeterred by the fact that her knees hurt and her leg may "give way" at any moment, she will strategize as though planning a complex military operation, and somehow accomplish the goal she has in mind. In between these manoeuvres, she will stop until she regains energy for the next onslaught.

That afternoon, we sat for a couple of pleasant hours in the sun. Around us, insects buzzed, birds sang, the breeze played with our hair as the canvas canopy over our heads flapped--and we talked--and talked…