|I knew if I found them, I would|
glow briefly as a hero
in my wife's eyes.
Oddly enough, at home, I am never without my glasses, not because I never mislay them, but precisely because I do mislay them, so thoroughly and so ubiquitously, the wherever I look, my eye will fall on a pair I've set aside. Basically my system is to lose so much stuff, that anywhere I search, I'm bound to find something.
I worry about myself sometimes.
Yesterday at the beach, Nancy lost her hat. You might question her judgement wearing a hat into the ocean, but she has done so many times. But yesterday, a wave swept it off her head. We expected to find it floating in the surf nearby, but no. As far as I can make out, it fell directly under the curve of cresting wave, was pounded to the bottom, then dragged out by the undertow.
This was a very nice hat - not that it was encrusted with valuable jewels - but it was functional and attractive and Nancy had never seen another quite like it.
I had on a swim mask and searched diligently underwater, not really expecting to find it - the Atlantic off the Florida coast is as clear as clam chowder - but knowing that if I did find it, I would glow briefly as a hero in my wife's eyes.
We finally gave up the search and went back to put away our assorted beach paraphernalia - chairs, umbrella, etcetera - it was the end of the day, and the loss of Nancy's good hat cast a pall over us. We had to hurry because the tide had come in to a goodish extent and was even now lapping at the feet of our beach chairs.
And then, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Nancy's hat!
The conclusion of the story is more remarkable than it appears - our beach stuff was about a hundred feet from where she lost the hat, and we'd already looked for it without success for fifteen minutes, when a helpful wave deposited it right as our feet as we were packing up.
Thank you, mighty Poseidon!
There's a wonderful experience in finding something that has been lost; we prize it more dearly for having contemplated life without it. Not that you have to be an Expert at Losing Things as I am, but I feel sorry for someone who never loses anything ever. How would you know the delight of finding it again?