It was also a trip of lost things.
In the parking lot of a wonderful cafe featured on Guy Fieri's Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, I discovered my iPhone was missing. Searched the car and luggage...nothing. Returned to the beautiful Peppermill, and held my breath since the room had already been cleaned. Luckily the housekeeper found the iPhone - AND a small pouch left behind containing girlstuff - INCLUDING two rose gold and ruby rings designed and handmade by artist, Polly Hart.
They were expensive. The artist no longer makes these rings. But that wasn't my heartfelt concern: I wear them infrequently because I bought them primarily as a bit of a legacy for my niece to inherit. I was very close to and dearly loved both of my grandmothers, who are my niece's maternal great-grandmothers. Both were born in the late 1800s in the month of July. Of course, rubies are the birthstone for July. Each ring symbolizes one of of the great-grandmothers, and each has seven rubies to symbolize the seventh month. If the rings were not found, the meaning and purpose of my purchase could probably not be replaced.
But that isn't all that got lost. An hour after I discovered the missing phone, I realized my keys were missing: cars, car lockbox, house, gate, downstairs door key, backdoor key, and a key to my mother's home! Emptied the purse twice - nothing. Had searched the luggage and didn't see them...searched the seats, the floor, the glove box - all of us searched. Nothing! What the heck? I can honestly say that the last time I lost anything was 25 years ago. At this point, I insisted that we just head on down the road.
It was right about then that we realized that a lovely bottle of wine was missing. Not that we planned to open it and drink it in the car, just that we were all thinking about all the lost items, and suddenly realized that the wine we hadn't opened didn't make it out of the room with us.
Before getting out of town, the oil light in the SUV came on. Somehow, the car managed to lose more than a quart of oil.
Stopping for a bathroom break in Davis, California, just outside of Sacramento, we all discovered that the small, perfect back pillow that lives in my car to support my lumbar on long trips was missing. Out came the people, the luggage, and the floors and seats once again were searched - to no avail.
Perhaps this was to make up for the extreme winnings I made on a mere $5.00 at the slot machines?
By some kind of amazing bit of luck, verging on magic, right on top of everything in my purse, which I opened once inside my home, there they were: MY KEYS!! Shortly after that, the car lumbar pillow was found: evidently shoved into a piece of luggage during the search for my iPhone.
For someone who doesn't lose things, it was a little distressing, this set of "lost" events. It's not like I partied like a rock star, drinking in overabundance, or stayed up all night up at headliner shows or the craps tables, muddling my ability to think clearly.
I guess that all in all, I only lost one thing on the trip: mindfulness.