wee blessing
When I come home, I am always surprised to find that I haven't been robbed. I am pleased to see that the windows of my car have not been smashed, that the car still stands where I left it. I've come to expect the worst from people I've never met and that is something I would like to change. On 2nd Street, where I live, there is a whole wall that has been graffitied with the words, "Everything you know about hair care is wrong. You've been Shampoozled." It is a small thing, I know, but isn't it also a weird confirmation that people lie? All the time?
I lost a silver ring today. I slipped it off beside the computer in the school library and didn't remember it until I'd left. Walking back to check an hour later, one sneakered foot in front of the other through the mud, I knew I would never see it again.
It is not worth more than fifteen dollars but Robert and I bought it at a market in Istanbul last summer and, after trying on dozens, this is the one he pointed to and said, "I like it."
In Turkey, I learned that Robert loves mother-of-pearl. People who know Robert would not guess this, would not imagine, probably, that the existence of mother-of-pearl, all shiny pastels, has ever made an impression in his thoughts. After he said that, I looked back at the ring, I saw that it was perfect.
Just now, I stumbled back into the library and the ring was here, slipped into an envelope and left at the front desk by a stranger who found it and thought, "This belongs to someone else." I opened the envelope like it was a present left by Santa Claus, someone you should know by now doesn't really exist.
I lost a silver ring today. I slipped it off beside the computer in the school library and didn't remember it until I'd left. Walking back to check an hour later, one sneakered foot in front of the other through the mud, I knew I would never see it again.
It is not worth more than fifteen dollars but Robert and I bought it at a market in Istanbul last summer and, after trying on dozens, this is the one he pointed to and said, "I like it."
In Turkey, I learned that Robert loves mother-of-pearl. People who know Robert would not guess this, would not imagine, probably, that the existence of mother-of-pearl, all shiny pastels, has ever made an impression in his thoughts. After he said that, I looked back at the ring, I saw that it was perfect.
Just now, I stumbled back into the library and the ring was here, slipped into an envelope and left at the front desk by a stranger who found it and thought, "This belongs to someone else." I opened the envelope like it was a present left by Santa Claus, someone you should know by now doesn't really exist.
posted by Sarah at 6:44 PM
2 Comments:
Wow. What an amazing story. How wonderful to have something returned to you that although inexpensive, meant a great deal and was purchased in a special place. It's nice to know that there are some nice people out there when we see and hear so much of the opposite.
as i walked to third avenue this evening to try to get into brokeback i passed by lit and remembered i'd lost a red scarf there a week ago. i went in and the barmaid rummaged through the lost and found and pulled out a red scarf. i grabbed it and went into the light. it was red and a scarf but it was not mine. she told me to take it. i mulled it over and wrapped it around my neck, looked down, and then took it off and placed it back on the bar. i didn't see the point in taking something that was clearly not mine. as i walked out i thought that perhaps the owner of that scarf was walking around with my red scarf. ho hum, let it be on their conscience.
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