About thirty years ago my Dad mailed me a smooth, green,
heart-shaped stone that he found on a beach in Victoria, B.C. where he had
moved a few years earlier. It quickly became my most cherished possession.
I carefully placed it in a small, embroidered pouch to which
I attached two tiny angel pins. And then
I carried it everywhere I went.
One time I dropped it in a coffee shop and as soon as I had
realized that it was missing, I raced back to the shop and found it lying on
the floor under the table. What a
relief!
This close call really worried me and I began to imagine how
I would feel if it were gone forever. Also, now deeply ensconced in my sixties,
I often wondered what I would do with this stone in the event of my
demise. It was a treasure only to me.
Well, sadly I need not worry about this now as it has been
truly lost during a trip to Florida this month.
I think it probably fell out of my bag on the airplane or in the airport
as I fumbled with my wallet and passport, etc.
A lost item report has been filed with the airline, the
rental car agency and the rented house but so far to no avail.
Barring the return of the stone, all I can hope is that it
is with someone who appreciates its beauty or it somehow finds its way to a
resting place in the beautiful Florida sun.
I'm sorry Dad ...
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