A little background. Yesterday my daughters and friends had a lemonade stand. Correction: a gatorade stand. They earned $49 thanks to a good marketing scheme (scrolls left on door knobs) and overly generous neighbors. So my daughter KAY stuffed her share into her new wallet. $13 worth of mostly quarters, dimes and nickels.
We entered the store, grabbed a cart, and away we browsed. Only we lost track of the cart. And the wallet went for a walk. We checked with the store manager. Nope. Noone had turned in a wallet. KAY was speechless for the second time in her life (the first time was when she nearly bit the end of her tongue off in a teeter-totter-gone-wild mishap).
She looked so hurt and deflated. I told her to think of it this way: The person who took what was obviously a child's wallet may have been poor and desperate. She may have been at her wit's end, unable to afford (her next crack fix) flip flops or a summer bathing suit for her daughter. So think of that $13 as a gift to some unknowing child.
To her credit and my relief, KAY brightened just a bit.
Then completely forgot about it by the time she filled up her Slurpee cup 15 minutes later.
En route to said Slurpee machine, more excitement. I see a handwritten note has been stuck under my windshield wiper. It's written on a piece of paper torn out from a check writing register and says:
To Whom May Concern:
I bumped into your car.
My name is D---- N-----.
Phone ---- -----
Geico Insurance Policy # ---------
Please call me so we can work this out.
We rush all around the car. We see a big scraping gash and dent along the back bumper and above the rear wheel well. Nothing major. But its not pretty either. Formerly dent free, it now looks like it has a sordid past.
But that note written by D---- ? It restored my faith. I will definately call her with a big thanks for her honesty. I want to reward her with a free pass. But SAM thinks otherwise. He's a man afterall. So annoyingly not prone to magnanimous gestures of gratitude.
Oh, so one more thing. Moments before I started typing this, I heard a loud CRASH. My son was working on a t-shirt sewing project. That crash was the sound of the sewing machine coming loose from its carrying case, arcing into space and flying onto the concrete floors. He SAYS "its just fine." In fact, I now hear him sewing. Ahh. Jangled nerves but false alarm.
But I think I'll go crawl under the covers anyway, just for added measure.
Update: SAM called the honest note writer five days later. She said, "Oh I didn't hear from you so I kind of hoped the wind blew the note away." Yup. Honest.