The Kindness of Strangers
To the person who found my purse in the A&P parking lot on Saturday night: thank you. Really, what more can I say. You could have taken the thirty-seven dollars and change and I would still be grateful. But you didn't. And yesterday morning while getting ready to attend the bank closing on the refinance of my home, when I realized that I had indeed not seen my purse or it's contents (including my driver's license, of course) in nearly forty-eight hours I began a complete and total melt-down. When my husband calmly suggested that I call the supermarket and ask if they had my purse, I balked. No way. Right? But there it was. And did I mention that everything was intact. Not a Luden's Honey-Lemon missing. Not a dollar spent. I picked it up on my way to the closing, continued on to the Chrysler Building in New York City, rode the art-deco elevator twenty-four stories, presented my driver's license when asked to do so, and successfully completed the refinance of my home. So, to that person who stopped in the cold dark parking lot on Saturday night and took the time to bring the bag of a stranger inside to the customer service desk, I say: thank you. Thank you.