Happy Endings

So,

My phone rang this evening approximately thirty minutes after the oldest left to pick up his girlfriend for a date. Thinking that he needed to double check his directions for the place they were headed to, I prepared in my head a mental map. His opening line, however, told me this call had nothing to do with directions.

Mom, this just isn't my day.

To make a long story short and simply cut to the chase, he had lost his backpack. You see, he wears this backpack while riding his motorcycle and it's full of all things important: ipad, cool video camera, other assorted odds and ends. Apparently he had placed said backpack on top of the girlfriend's car as they got ready to leave and...

Well, you can probably finish that story.

Somewhere along the way he realized that the backpack was not in the backseat. Somewhere along the way he knew the backpack had slid off the top of the car. Somewhere along the way he began to feel very sick to his stomach.

The youngest and I made a few signs and drove the area where he thought he might have lost it. Posting flyers with turquoise thumbtacks, we searched ditches and roamed neighborhoods like some wanna-be stalkers with little luck. Defeated, we came home and had just sat down when the doorbell rang.

Yes.

A random man stood on our front porch telling a tale of a backpack he had found on the side of the road. He tracked us down thanks to an old paystub with an address. Nothing was missing. What makes this story unique (at least to me) is that the entire time we were looking for that backpack, I wanted to be the one to find it.

Me. Myself. And I.

Maybe I wanted to be a hero to my son. Maybe I wanted to show the husband that my searching was not in vain. Maybe I just needed something to brag about. None of that matters now. The Lord had a different plan and when you think about it, it was rather ingenious: a complete stranger doing what he said "was just the right thing to do."

That story is way cooler than just a mom finding her kid's backpack.



I just love a happy ending.

My Memories Ran Away

I am still on the search for that blasted wedding album. I mean really... how many people out there misplace a white, satin photo album covered with lace and ribbons? When I couldn't find it last year, I chuckled to myself and moved on. Now that I still can't find it this year, my funky memory glitch is not-so-funny.

Where would I have put it?

Not in the cedar chest. I distinctly remember removing it from that cedar chest for the sole reason that I wanted easier access to those pictures. Just to be certain, however, I have looked in that chest two times in the last couple of weeks. The only thing I've gained from those fruitless searches is happy memories and unfolded laundry.

I looked under the bed. I don't know why I would have put it there, but under the guise of easier access, it seemed like a logical place to look (my under-the-bed is pretty sparse, in case you're wondering; you can easily see what is under there, dust bunnies and all). And speaking of dust bunnies, that is the only thing I found.

Night stand? No.

Closet? Not from what I can tell (and that should tell you why the under-the-bed is clean... it's all in the closet). I've checked the floor. I've semi went through the shelves. The daughter seems certain that's where it'll be. She could be right, but boy.... if it's there, I don't know where. Like I said, the thing is big and white and dripping with ribbons. It oughta stand out. I'm gonna conduct a more in-depth look tomorrow night. 

Because after that, I'm out of ideas.

And I'd really like to find it. Wednesday is the BIG day. Subjecting the family to the wedding video is not enough. They need to fully experience the wedding album one more time, not to mention listen to the stories that go with each picture. There's nothing I like better than a captive audience.

Unless someone in that captive audience figured out how to avoid the mom-forced memory hour.

Maybe I should look under their beds.