Market day for me. It’s always the same: make a list, check it twice, pay up, load the car trunk and head home to do it all in reverse. Like I said – always the same.
But not today. I got home but my purse didn’t. I’d left it in the shopping basket after unloading. (This is, embarrassingly, not the first time I’ve done this, although to be fair it was ten years ago.)
Heart in throat I raced back to the supermarket. Up to the service desk, now breathless. Do you have my purse? No, sorry. Heartbeat takes notice. Now frantic, I head out to look at every shopping cart I can find in the parking lot, but stop because behind me someone is calling my name. Someone in the store uniform. First I wonder how does she know my name? And then I know. My world is about to be whole again.
The store clerk had just gotten a phone call from a couple who said they’d found the purse and were headed to my house, but then thought they’d best call just in case I went there. And now, the clerk said, they were turned around and headed back.
I love those people.