My late mother – bless her soul – used to brag to anyone who cared to listen about how lucky her two-year-old rambunctious little Celia was; and how many times she had saved the future drama queen from drowning in the shallow river that ran through our sleepy farming town. To this day I still blame her for crushing my Olympic swimming potentials. Unfortunately, she’ll never know in her eternal resting place how lucky I have gotten. I found what I thought had been lost for good. I finally got reunited with my pair of expensive progressive eyeglasses which I had already written off after two weeks of diligent searching. First, a brief background….
In the evening of the day after Christmas of 2017, a big Ford sedan accidentally hit my left shoulder from behind as I crossed a major road that traverses the retirement resort where I live. Three weeks later at the resort pool, I learned this was how my significant other (BT) had recalled the accident to our buddies: The collision propelled Celia 80 feet up in the air then she dropped face down smacked against the pavement of the outside lane of the road. Amazingly, she sashayed out of the accident scene like the winner in RuPaul’s TV fashion show.
BT never witnessed the accident but I love his version. It makes me feel like a trapeze acrobatic star. But seriously, the impact of my face on the asphalt pavement flattened the eyeglass thingies on my nose. Fortunately my nose is also flat and it helped to prevent serious harm. However, the expensive eyeglasses which were prescribed for nearsightedness and astigmatism became worthless.
As soon as I could, I went to an optometrist’s office and used my very recent prescription in the in-house optical store. Knowing the insurance company was paying for a new pair of eyeglasses as part of the pain-and-suffering settlement, I ordered the most expensive lenses that darken against the sun and transition from clear long distance to close-up images, eliminating bifocal lines. The progressive eyeglasses cost $600, the most expensive ones I’ve ever owned. Usually when quoted $200 for new glasses, my face begins to exhibit symptoms of an impending nervous breakdown.
I wore the sexy new glasses happily in the days, weeks, and months that followed. Because I never had to take them off to read menus, magazines, bills, and my smartphone, I wore them without holders that dangle to my chest from both sides of my face.
One day I took the glasses off and lost them! I don’t remember the reason and the place but had a good idea of the events that day plus and minus another day. Sleuthing for the progressive eyeglasses went in earnest.
I remembered taking my glasses off when I had to put my face down on the hole of the massage table in the office the physical therapist (PT). I called PT. He said, No one has seen them. I called the cabbie who drove me home, thinking I might have dropped them in the taxi. Cabbie said Sorry not here. BT and I returned to the Chinese restaurant where we had lunch. Checking by phone would have invited too much aggravation. Only the cashier there speaks English. The lost-and-found basket yielded no progressive glasses. I phoned the bus drivers. None there. At every clubhouse, I inspected the lost-and-found chest. Zero. I repeated the process the following days. Still zip, nada. I told anybody within 3 feet of me about my lost pricey glasses.
At the end of the exhaustive research week, at the retirement resort pool, a regular session attendee handed me a clipping from our local newsletter. The article said a man with a Chinese name had found a pair of progressive eyeglasses in the vicinity of my recent whereabouts and would like to find the rightful owner and gave his phone number. OMG, my heart jumped for joy! What are the chances? How many people could have possibly lost progressive glasses at the same time and the same place? I thought, Those glasses are mine! They belong to me!
I googled the finder’s name, hoping I’d read more about this awesome gentleman who had taken the time to write an article in the paper about found glasses and look for the owner, who would be me. I’ve got to know this dude in advance.
Several same-named guys popped up in my research, ranging from computer expert to an oncologist, to a fortune teller. I thought only women are into fortune telling. I went ahead and called the finder’s number. Major disappointment! A man had already claimed the progressive eyeglasses.
I gave up. Or so I thought. I took a vacation in Calgary and stayed with a couple of my favorite people. I focused on enjoying great hospitality, nutritious food, beautiful sceneries, and surviving the worst pollen allergy in my memory chest which also held my dear glasses.
Three days after returning home, BT and I set out to pick up my prescription and order 2 for $69 eyeglasses at a special sale. But first we needed to eat lunch. We headed to our favorite Chinese restaurant. As I sauntered into the place, I felt a tug at my gut. Just one last time, I told BT. I will check the lost-and-found basket.
The restaurant cashier handed me the basket. Sunglasses of every style! I sorted through them, and underneath, saw a pair of clear eyeglasses like the pair I’d been searching for. My heart skipped a beat. I tried the glasses on and voila! The sky opened, the angels broke into Aretha Franklin’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T, and I could see the cash through the restaurant register. I am the only person on this earth who can wear this!!!!, I exclaimed to the nearby waiters none of whom understood a word I said. They simply exchanged bewildered glances. I sashayed back to our table, ear-to-ear smile, sporting two pairs of eyeglasses: the lost-and-found expensive ones on my face, and the old cheap ones dangling on my chest from my neck.
Don’t we all love happy endings! Happy dance.