Hanging on until the last.A Parker ball pen of which I was fond disappeared a few weeks ago. I kept it in my pocket and used it to make notes when I saw anything of interest while walking about. I assumed I must have dropped it after scribbling in my notebook, until today when I felt something in the lining of my jacket. Something believed lost and then found is something gained.
Mid-morning, I am standing in The Grove where I have stopped for a minute to listen. All the sounds of the town meld into a murmur, interspersed with more immediate sounds closer too, an accelerating engine or a voice. It is quiet but very far from silent.
3 comments:
The lost and found thing always reminds me of the parable about the woman who loses the coin and finds it again and invites her friends around to celebrate. It always seemed to me that perhaps the celebration might cost as much as the coin's worth but that's immaterial, because the joy of the finding is as important as the reacquisition.
And there's a biblical precedent for your feelings. The return of the prodigal Parker.
Note to self (you that is, not me): mend jacket lining.
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