Wednesday, Nov. 14, 2012

Today, I’ll pick up where my story yesterday left off—my friend and I entering an adventure where things took an unexpected turn that had me nearly throwing up with dread.  The first part of our experience had gone well enough…in fact, even more so, us having discovered an amazing kosher deli where the owner loaded us up with free food as they were closing for the day.  Then, traffic continued to hold, us arriving near our next destination with almost half an hour to spare.  Having extra time on our hands, my friend and I spotted a fireplace store and decided to make a stop so I could pick up a couple of items I needed for my new house.

Pulling up to the curb, my friend opted to remain with the truck while I ran in.  Opening the car door, I reached for my purse.  That’s when my pulse quickened, heart tried to stop, brain refused to fully compute what had happened and I felt the world slowly slip askew as I recalled having hung my purse over the back of the chair at the mom-and-pop pizzeria my friend and I had stopped at.  Scanning the car seat, me now out of the vehicle, I realized, with a sickening realization, that I hadn’t reclaimed my purse when we’d left, too interested in helping a lost dog find its owner before it got struck by a car.

M stomach doing somersaults, my mouth going dry and my mind racing over the immense mess having lost my purse would create, I was calmed when my friend offered to call the pizzeria to see if they’d found my purse.  We made the call, me speaking to the owner.  But, though he remembered who I was and where I’d sat, he went out to find my purse, which…of course…was no longer there, at least half an hour having expired.

My heart sank and head reeled as the harsh realities of what this would mean sank in.  But I held it together, mentally beginning the long list of what I’d have to do and whom I’d have to call to set all this straight.  In the meantime, my friend calmly started the car and turned it around, heading away from the interview where they needed to be.  When I questioned this, I was told that it was worth a shot to go back to the pizzeria.  That perhaps someone had found my purse—or some of its contents—and would turn it into the owner.

I was grateful for my friend’s willingness to help my situation but felt horribly guilty that to do so would cost them not only the interview they were to attend but also a good amount of money as a result.  My friend brushed off my concerns and headed towards the pizzeria.  Meanwhile, I tried to keep my kosher meal from heaving its way out of me.  I was grateful for my friend’s calm demeanor and them not casting judgment on my having been forgetful.  (Did I mention this is only the second time in my life that I’d misplaced my purse?)

I was surprised at how calm I remained, due in great part to my friend also remaining calm and matter-of-fact.  Their attitude was simple.  Either the purse would be there…or not.  All or part of it might resurface…or not.  No sense getting upset until we knew for sure the quest for my purse was a total lost cause.  I liked that mentality.  Calmed me to my core.

My friend and I pulled up to the pizzeria a short time later and once again, our day took an absolute turn from what we’d expected….

Turn in tomorrow for the conclusion of my lost purse story.