This story is about a lost lens, how small things end up feet from where they were dropped and my attempt to retrieve it.

Today is Wednesday August 2, 2000. I’m standing in the door of the bathroom where I‘ve placed the scale. I’m about to weigh myself before taking my shower and getting ready for work, you know how we women are always watching our weight. Looking down at the scale I realize I can’t see the numbers as well without my glasses. As usual I’m rushing, it appears I never have enough time no matter how early I get up.

I go back to my bedroom, (less than 10 feet away) get my glasses and put them on. I step on the scale and one of the lenses pops out. Rushed I get down on my hands and knees and run my hand back and forth under the clothes rack which is jammed packed with clothing that won’t fit in the closet. I push all the clothing back, pull the rack out from the wall, but still can’t see the lens. I even lift up the bathroom rug thinking, perhaps the lens somehow rolled backward without my seeing it.

Minutes have passed, it’s getting closer to time for me to get ready for work. I don’t want to step on it, because then I’ll really be in trouble. Frustrated with not finding it; I give up deciding I’ll look for it when I return from work.

After taking my shower, I carefully walk back to my bedroom’ get dressed and leave for work. As I drive to work I’m thinking where could that lens be? It’s as if the lens took legs and ran away.

I imagined to myself the lenses was standing some where in a corner laughing at me saying, la, la, la, la, laaaaa, you can’t find me.
Upon returning home from work I was determined to find that lens; wondering where could it be in the small hall that was no larger than 8X5.

I was determined to find that lens, I had the attitude it was me or the lens (I was ready for war). I walked into the apartment started talking off my clothes, went into the kitchen to get my weapon (the broom) with it’s long handle, and went back into the small hall.

As I got down on my hands and knees once again, I wondered how in the hell could things so small end up feet from where you dropped them; if they didn’t have legs? I took the broom in hand gave it one good swoosh and the lens came flying out from wherever it had hidden it’s self.

As I picked up the lens looking at it I imagined it saying, “ok, I won, I’m tired of playing this game, here I am”. Sometimes life’s simplest incidents make you stop, think and wonder.


kaydurden(c)2002