An Occurrence
I bought a new red-cased LED flashlight. It was bright, and I liked it. then I lost it. I was sad. I wanted to hang my head and cry. But I straightened up. At least there was no cursing, a curse of the younger me. There was just resignation. After all, it was unlikely the flashlight had run off or been stolen. Although perhaps the latter had a faint chance, but faint, really, really faint. I was the culprit most likely. I’d had the flashlight with me, set it down, and walked off.
Still, it was disconcerting to know that my new red LED flashlight was somewhere in my 2000 square foot house, yet I was unable to find it no matter how many times I examined the same flat surfaces. Of course, there was the possibility that I had it outside, which expanded the abandonment territory, but seemed unlikely. So, I used the old incandescent flashlight, cursed its dimness, and waited for our paths to cross once again.
It happened yesterday. I was in the attic, looking at my remaining Christmas decorations and there it was, standing sentimental right where I left it. There was no ecstatic greeting. No panting, barking, tail-wagging or face licking. Nothing. I took it in my hand and brought it back downstairs. We’ve not spoken of why it happened. We both just know it’s something with a man and his tools. You have it, then you don’t. The tool understands, as does the man. And I’ll do my best to avoid a recurrence. But life is complicated, and things happen, and every once in a while, a flashlight gets left in the attic.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale