Serendipity

You know how you sometimes reach into a jacket pocket or a bag and find $20 and think, “How could I have possibly left that there?” Today, looking for my make-up bag (the small red leather one – if you see it, please do let me know) I discovered one salted caramel left in a roomy camel-colored purse.  Comfortable in familiar surroundings, he did not appear to be nearly as surprised to see me as I was to see him.  We had a delicious, if brief, reunion.

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10 thoughts on “Serendipity

  1. This would never happen to me–finding a forgotten piece of candy–because I would have eaten the entire box at one sitting. That's why I don't buy the stuff.

    But sometimes things do show up–after long intervals and in odd places. One set of grandparents were hoarders. Their stuff was good, or interesting, or historic, but there was way more of it than they needed–or, that, when it came time, for me to store. One of the things I took when they broke up house–even though I didn't need it any more than they did–was a cool little Britannia metal collapsible drinking cup with a reeded & gadrooned rim, in its own little tooled-leather carrying case that had my great-great grandfather's monogram on the top.

    I had it for a few years, it sat on my desk, and one time, when I was having people over to eat, some new friends' ten-year old son took a liking to it. He was a cute kid, smart, enthusiastic and interested in everything, and since two of his own initials matched two of my GGGF's monogram, I gave the cup to him, then forgot all about it.

    Fast forward twenty years. One day, another friend of mine showed up with something he thought I'd appreciate, my being into history and all: it was my old cup. He'd found it when he was cleaning out the cupboards at a church he was helping remodel.

    The next time I saw they guy that I'd given it to–now married with a kid of his own–I showed it to him, and told him how it ended up back in my possession. "This is so weird" he said. He told me he had carried the cup around with him for a week or so–to school, to the movies, to church, and he used it instead of drinking out of the drinking fountain. One day, at church, his dad had spotted him looking at it during services and took it away, because he–my young friend–"wasn't paying attention and he didn't need it."

    That was the last time the kid ever saw his cup, and he said he never told me what happened because he was afraid I'd be mad–which I was, but not at him. In the intervening years, dad–who was so concerned with his son's not paying attention to the message at church–had had an affair, divorced his wife and moved out of town.

    When my now grown friend, told his dad that, after all these years, the cool cup had resurfaced and that it had ended up back in my hands due to someone who didn't know anything of the cup's own history or its connection with me, but who thought I'd like it, dad responded by saying "I don't know what you're talking about, but it doesn't surprise me you weren't paying attention. You never did."

  2. So fine! LIke reaching into the pocket of a coat you haven't worn in awhile and finding money. Happy Monday!

  3. Some of my favorite things you've written are little jewels like this one. One of the many reasons I adore reading your blog…..and look forward to your occasional posts.
    Yum!

  4. Darn, and silly me thought that I was over that chocolate addiction thing—now I'm on my way out to purchase some truffles. WE only live once.
    Happy Fourth of July.
    Mary

  5. Adored this post. Reminded me of the time, during a particularly hard day sparking young minds to create words out of symbols, a glimmer of hope flashed, remembering the chocolates I had hidden after a wonderful day shopping with my mother (we always had to buy chocolate when made the 2 hour trip to the big city). The pleasure awaited me; just finish the day, pull in the drive, race through the door, pour a tall glass of milk (today it would be wine, but I was young) pull open the cabinet door, reach for the pristine, white, paper bag bearing the fancy letters BISINGER……to find it stapled shut with a note scrawled on the front: "caught ya!" from my dear, beloved husband. Guess. Did I refrain?

  6. I know the feeling! Since I can go through a box of chocolates in one or two sittings, I severly limit myself. If only I could teach my husband to dose them out to me! But it's like Christmas to find the odd one hiding here or there – good post. Helen T

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