I lose things regularly -- or at least I think I do. I've lost many things both valuable and sentimental over the years, and it's one of the things I want to change about myself.
I always have passing thoughts of this whenever I bring something I usually don't bring. There is my wallet, my keys, and my phone -- the Holy Trinity Of Things I Always Make Sure I Have On Me When I Go Somewhere (besides the time I left my phone at my friend's house). Everything else I stop for a nanosecond and think, "Should I bring this? I could lose it and not get it back." It's a bad feeling that you have to stop yourself and your stride, but it's necessary after all the things I've lost along the way.
I had those words in my head when I bent down on my bedroom floor and picked up my camera when I was going out with my friends from Switzerland for a goodbye breakfast at IHOP. But I wanted to take one last snapshot at the table before they left. They did. Then I left, taking my hat, my phone, my wallet, my keys, and a to-go cup of coffee (I woke up super-early, like 9, to see them off) with me.
After IHOP we went to a Home Depot because they needed something. They needed something else, but I was kind of pressed for time, so I left them to go to "work" at the parking lot. I went home to change shoes, then go to the U. And it was just about getting to the lab where I thought, "Wait, did I grab my camera when we left breakfast? I don't know. ..."
This is where I usually feel this rippling wave of shock seize my body, and sweat starts gushing out of my pores. All this, and I'm running late for "work." Luckily, I remembered that I had the IHOP receipt, so I called the phone number on it as I was walking. Another prescient thing: They asked me for the table number, which is also on the receipt. But they said they found nothing. I felt a little peeved by what I perceived as their tone, but I know that I had no one to blame for misplacing my camera except myself. And I wasn't going to puss out on my two hours at the lab because I'm worried about where my camera could and could not be.
It's the anticipation that's the worst -- the minutes before you know you will find out, one way or the other, how a question will be answered. I was actually OK for the first hour of my hearing session, but when I looked forward to walking and/or running to my car to see if I somehow put and left it there, and then driving like a banshee back to IHOP if it wasn't, then remembering that I did stop by home and maybe I brought it back inside ... all the possibilities ... and then starting to emotionally prepare myself for the end, and the permanent loss of my camera ... well, the palpitations in my heart started to accelerate all through that hour.
I was six minutes late to "work." I usually try to make that up by staying late, but I didn't care this time and left a minute before the hour.
It was hot, and I was tired being up for five hours straight, so I walked unless I had to jog through an intersection. When I got to the car I went through my mental checklist of places where I placed my camera -- just under the driver's seat, where I put my day planner and program of the play we saw the day before? No. Just under the passenger seat, where I put a lot of my stuff over the course of a day? No. Is it in the glove compartment. And by Buddha, there was my camera case, stuffed into one corner, flattening the top edge of my travel document billfold.
The scary thing is, I don't remember putting it there. I really don't. Now, I had visions that I slipped it in there after we left IHOP, but I thought that was just me harkening back to when I know I did that last night on our way to the play, or just wishful thinking that helped my spirits before I face the awful truth. I seriously thought that when I got up off the table, I was carrying in my left hand my cup of coffee. I had my hat on, and my right hand was free to grab the car key from my pocket and open the door for me to slip in and start the car. That is totally what I thought I did from IHOP to Home Depot.
But, apparently, I automatically remembered that the camera was to the side against the wall, and I remembered to not only reach for the hat but the camera; automatic memory made me put the camera in a safe place.
Maybe I shouldn't doubt myself so much. Maybe I've progressed to the point where I now will remember things without actively needing to remember them. What could it be ... maturity?
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