Lost and Found

Lost and Found

I walked into the bedroom. Josie had quite a mess.

“Is it there?” I asked. She’d been searching for a few hours for something.

“No, not there.” A few more shirts flew my way.

“Well, what is it?”

“I can’t find it anywhere."

“Exactly what are you looking for?"

“It’s, well, you know. A what-zit, a thing-a-ma-bob, a what-cha-ma-all-it. The whoo-zit, a doodad, that thingie. Uh, the thing-a-ma-jig.”

“OH, you mean the wing-wang for the goose’s bridle.” I now messed with her. I could really care less.

“Marcie, yes! That’s what I can’t find!” She plopped down on her messy bed.

“Have you checked lost and found?” I picked up some books, put them on the shelf.

“We have a lost and found?”

“Of course. You’ll find lots of treasures there.”

“Show me! Maybe I’ll find that wing-wang.” Josie jumped up.

We went to lost and found.

‘Where?” Josie questioned me. I could tell she was skeptical.

“You didn’t know about this?” Mom’s purse sat on the counter. “No, not the purse. Never go into the purse. That. That is lost and found.”

A large urn sat on the counter. Green, tall, mysterious, full of bits and bobs found when Mom cleaned. If you didn’t claim something in a week, it got thrown away.

Josie and I poured out the contents of the urn. She shrieked in delight.

“There it is! The wing-wang!”

Josie pulled the smallest pink heart-shaped paper clip from the detritus.

The wing-wang for the goose's bridle.

W/C 268