I was shopping in Target in the Bronx the other day, as they finally are carrying shirts with sleeves again and the occasional skirt that just might cover my knees, and also because I needed to pick up some other stuff for the apartment. I walked around with a cart for awhile, but it got taken away while I was in the changing room, with my coffee in it. "Okay fine, so I was only meant to drink half that coffee," I told myself, and continued without it, which wasn't so hard because I decided not to take most of the stuff I had tried on.
I wandered about the store, taking my time, but eventually I had what I needed and I thought it was getting a little late, so I headed towards the checkout. While there, I decided to check was time it was for real, and since I don't own a working watch, I dug around in my bag to check the time on my cell phone. And dug...and dug some more...and panicked. Because it really, truly, wasn't in there.
Anyone who knows me, knows that my phone and I are very attached to each other. (Actually, I never asked the phone...but whatever.) My whole life (and all of my vital phone numbers!) are in that phone. Losing it is NOT a good thing.
Still, being in possession of at least a small remaining amount of my original out-of-towner idealism, I decided to check customer service to see if anyone turned it in to lost-and-found. Stranger things have happened...even in the Bronx...right?
I walked up to customer service and asked, "Has anyone turned in a lost phone?"
The lady answered, "What kind of phone?"
I told her the type of phone it was, and she asked, "What color?"
Now, I never really paid that much attention to the color of my phone; it's rather generic and, well, looks like an average cell phone. It's not pink or green or orange.
"Um...well...if you flip it open, there's a picture of me holding a baby." [my new nephew]
She flipped it. "Yeah, it looks like you." She smiled, and handed me my phone.
See? Miracles do happen, even in the Bronx! :)