Lost & Found

My dad has a saying for times when you are searching for lost items: "It's always in the last place you look."

Today I met up with Abe for lunch on campus. At work we usually do the crossword puzzle during lunch, so I brought a copy with me. Which means I also brought my glasses, so I could read the clues without squinting.

The walk to campus was sunny and nice - certainly not weather for wearing glasses. I tucked them into my shirt collar. I remember them getting tangled with my ipod's earbud cords.

When I saw Abe on the lawn outside of the art museum, I ducked underneath the chain ropes to the lawn and met him there. We sat down (me in dappled shade, him in complete shade) and I commented on how this felt just like our lunch dates at college when we were first together.

We opened up the crossword and I reached for my glasses. Which were, of course, no longer there.

Thinking they must have dropped when I bent under the ropes, we searched back and forth along their length, and in the grass between. No luck.

Later, when I got back to work, I couldn't focus my eyes on the screen or papers in front of me. I'd basically given up on being able to find the glasses, so I got a recommendation from a co-worker for a cheap place for an exam and new glasses.

I walked to the bus stop, ready to go home, grab the car, and go get new glasses. At the stop, I called Abe, who said the only problem was that he had the car on campus, and needed it soon. So I changed directions to go meet Abe, get the car, drop him off, and then go get my new glasses.

It happened that Abe was in the building right next to the art museum. He needed a few minutes to wrap up his work, so I walked the length of the roped side walk - one last time.

And there, bright red frames against the green grass, were my glasses. In the last place I looked.

Incidentally, in my utter joy and astonishment, when I picked them up I immediately dropped them again. They skidded along the concrete sidewalk and now have a visible scratch in the center of the right lens. I'll try to think of it as a permanent reminder of good fortune.