Providence

I look in every pocket of my bag twice. "Hang on," I tell the friend I'm meeting, "I think I left my wallet in the car." I check the front seat. No wallet. Back seat. No wallet. Under all seats. Trunk. Bag, again.

No wallet.

"Did you come straight here from your house?" my friend asks.

"Yes. I remember I had it in my hand on my way out." I think through my trip from house to coffee shop: Walking from my apartment to the car, wallet in hand. Realizing I'm low on gas. Stopping to fill my tank. Setting my wallet on the closed trunk to free up both hands to open my stuck gas cap.

... Driving away with the wallet still on the closed trunk of my car.

- sinking feeling -

Millisecond of hope: Maybe it's still there, at the gas station?

- deeper sinking feeling -

The gas station is more than thirty minutes from the coffee shop, and—remembering the general aura of its location—I am not hopeful. I figure I might as well call, though, to see if it was turned in. The woman who answers the phone is much more helpful than I expected, and even goes out to the gas pump I used to see if it's on the ground. No wallet.

Call-waiting comes in on my phone while we're talking, with an unknown number. Maybe someone found my wallet?! But my phone number isn't in there, so how...? I call the number back, somewhat puzzled.

A very friendly voice answers. "Oh, hi! Is this Marybeth calling back? This is N. at Insurance Company—someone found your wallet and our card was in there, so he called us hoping we could contact you. He left his name and number if you want to call him and arrange to get it back."

I am astounded. I call the number she gives me, and he does in fact have my wallet. It turns out that he saw it in the middle of the intersection by the gas station, recognized it as a wallet, and turned around so he could pull over and retrieve it. ("I'm sorry, I think some of what you had in there may have fallen out—there was too much traffic for me to get all of it," he tells me. Um, you're apologizing that you didn't risk your life darting around a major road to gather every scrap of paper from a stranger's lost wallet? Seriously, please, no worries.) He then spent a good part of half an hour trying to track me down, including stopping by my apartment, and then drove out of his way to meet me at a shopping center to return it.

I lost a few gift cards (probably what went flying out) and I think a car or two may have run it over, but I have my wallet back—complete with credit cards, license, and even my cash (okay, it was only two dollars—but both were still there!).

So, while it's in no way sufficient since I'm sure they don't read this blog: cheers to the guy who put so much effort into returning my wallet today, and to N. at my insurance company for being willing to help (and checking back in with me to make sure it worked out), and to the woman at the gas station for at least taking the time to look around. They all made a potentially-very-stressful-situation into an amazingly-not-stressful one.

And yay God, hey? I am so glad to have it back. (I'm going to miss my just-filled coffee shop gift card, though. Sigh.)