I found myself this week needing to drive four hours from our home on the remote coastal tidal marsh to the big city to do some work stuff for a client.
Oh, that it would be so simple just to get in the car and go. Instead, I had to pack up things for my stay, all the dog stuff, all while trying to work on the go.
My expensive sunglasses were the last thing I grabbed. I normally trust myself only with $12 plastic sunglasses from Amazon. But a few months ago, I received these hi-end sunglasses as a gift. I’ve been feeling pretty snazzy.
I also felt brilliant leaving so that I could get halfway before Pup would get fussy and want dinner.
A couple of hours in, I pulled off the highway and drove to a random rural road. I fed Pup and walked her all while trying to straighten myself up for a Zoom call with yet another client. Did they need to know I was in the middle of nowhere on a country lane I couldn’t even name?
It was only later that I realized this is where I must’ve lost my sunglasses.
I looked through every pocket of every item of clothing for those glasses. Every nook and cranny of my car.
Finally, after three days I accepted they were gone forever.
There was no way I could go back and look for them, because I couldn’t begin to remember the name of the highway exit I had gotten off on.
Pup and I headed back to the coast, with me squinting trying to manage the brightest day since last summer.
A couple hours in Pup started to get fussy. “What’s your problem?” I asked in frustration. “I fed and walked you an hour ago. You should be fine the rest of the way.”
She wouldn’t let up.
“But we’re in the middle of nowhere,” I protested. “You’re going to have to wait until I can find an offramp.”
Fifteen minutes later I pulled off the highway. There was something oddly familiar.
“No way,” I said. I drove up another half mile. There was no question. This was exactly the spot where we had pulled off four days earlier.
I parked my car, got out and looked down.
Sure enough, I saw my own shocked expression staring back at me in the reflection of my expensive sunglasses.
They are perfectly fine. Not a single scratch. I put them on my head where they’ve stayed ever since.
What are the chances?
I’m sharing for you, Dear Reader.
You, who did not have things go your way this week.
Not to brag.
Rather to offer a reminder that sometimes things work out.
They just do.
Even when we don’t deserve the happy ending.
Nope.
All credit goes to my dog.
Daryn Kagan is the author of the book “Hope Possible: A Network News Anchor’s Thoughts On Losing Her Job, Finding Love, A New Career, And My Dog, Always My Dog” and Executive Director of the Just One More Foundation. Email her at Daryn@darynkagan.com.
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