The Story of My Life...

The Story of My Life

(Written 6 years ago.  Not much has changed.  Except my age and the number of children.)

The sight of my 44-year-old body alongside my husband’s 55-year-old frame lying on the floor with a flashlight focused under two bookshelves and a computer table is a picture I don't recommend putting into your head.  But we're on a mission.  Together.  Come to think of it – we haven't been alone together in quite some time. 

Anyway.  We're looking for a lost book.  I didn't lose it.  It must have lost itself. I'm absolutely positively sure that I had it in my possession just a few days ago.  It was sitting on my desk on top of 6 piles of "Needs You/Requires More" stuff.  Isn't that the story of my life? The papers are on my desk because they aren't in the trash, which is where all the unnecessary stuff goes. I'm sure the book is not in the trash, but I look anyway.

I'm a determined person.  I don't like to be beat.  Especially by a lost book that  I know I saw on my desk.  My mind won't stop racing. I retrace every step since last Saturday. That's a heck of a lot of steps. I vaguely remember wanting to read the book before teaching my class, but I never actually read it. I suggest that the kids look in the car.

My mind won't let me let this one go. I've been looking for 4 hours – not straight mind you – but for 4 hours every spare thought is on the location of the book. It’s not just about the book anymore.  It’s the principal of the thing.

I even offered to pay $2 to the lucky finder.  Before I could get the word "pay" out of my mouth, I have 4 volunteers – including my husband.  Money is scarce around here.  But my sanity is even more scarce.  It's worth the entire two bucks.

You can tell a lot about perseverance and determination by this task.  Three of the four lookers spend the next 15 minutes looking diligently.  In the car, under tables, over the river, through the woods.  But then they fizzle out. 

Only one remains in the race.  Poor kid.  I mean that quite literally – she really wants the two bucks.  And she continues to look for the next hour.  I wanted to give her the money just for her determination.  But I was scared that she would stop looking and I just wanted to find my book.

One day later: My astute readers surely recall my mentioning that the kids looked in the car . Actually, three kids looked in the car.  But when I put my belongings in the car the next morning, guess what I found between my seat and the middle compartment?  

Okay.  I admit that my vague recollection was accurate.  I probably picked up the book and took it to the car hoping to read it in between driving, teaching and shopping.  But that's not the point.  How could three kids spend a combined total of an hour and forty-five minutes looking for a book that was the first thing I saw when I got into the car?  I think that's the story of my life?

I could look on the bright side.  I got some quality time with my husband.