All's Well that Ends Well

So as I sat in the store-front window of Starbuck's, tonight, and watched people as they passed by, I realized that somehow, somewhere, I had to have missed something crucial.

I looked down at my then luke-warm chow mein, slowly poked at it with my chop-sticks, and muttered something slightly unintelligible. The boys behind me continued talking about the wimpishness of the Vanilla Creme whatever and were oblivious to the truth that was slowly breaking its way through the iciness of my heart. The occasional sound of the blender in the back-ground only added a certain flavor of irony to my current state of mind.

There must be something amazing about the combination of Chick-Fil-A lemonade and Suki Hana chow mein, fried rice, and some kind of "cheekeen" that just makes everything click when mixed with the soothing atmosphere of Starbuck's.

See, everyone else, as they walked in and out, had car keys hanging out of their purse, out of their pockets, off of belt-loops, or simply held lovingly and securely in their hand.

With a sigh of frustration, I gave up with the chopsticks and borrowed a fork from the always understanding staff at Starbuck's. Close to tears now, I mentally retraced my steps for the hundreth time, from the point in eternity that I entered Dillard's, to the current moment.

How I managed to leave my beloved keys behind when everyone else was so attached to theirs is simply beyond me.

Adorned with the bright orange rectangular sign attached to a chain proclaiming boldly to the world "KEYS I HAVEN'T LOST YET" and the Navy Duck, "Harry", with the mocking smile across his bill, their absense made an immense hole in my consciousness.

I felt betrayed, alone, and forgotten.

I don't know how long I sat there, wallowing in self-pity, wondering if I would ever see my keys again. But it seemed an eternity. Then he was there. Dad bravely came to my rescue and sat with me in Starbuck's with only a mere ghost of a smile on his face. I was so happy to see him, though, and I didn't say too much of anything important.

After taking a call from a debate student, we eventually got up and left. Physically, this time, we retraced my steps back to Dillard's and took one last look at the socks. I had given up completely on ever seeing them again.

Dad carefully examined the socks, picking through each one with laser-beam vision. He walked around the stand and carefully picked up two socks as I turned to walk away.

Then, I stopped. I heard the familar clatter of plastic and steele.

I turned, with a wide grin on my face and a slight tremor of voice: "YOU FOUND THEM!!"


All's well that ends well.