|Lands' End fleece roll-brim hat|
It doesn't take me long to start shedding layers. Pretty soon I'm juggling sunglasses, jacket, vest, hat, and leash (Our dog can run free on our walking path, the "Bugline Trail").
By the time we reach the end of the trail, I realize my hat is gone.
NO! Not my beloved fuzzy purple hat!
Time is of the essence. I have to pack Mike's lunch, wash up, change clothes, and drive to my grandson's house in time for his mumma to go to work.
"You could ride your bike back here and look for the hat," Mike suggests.
"Naw. Too slow. I'm gonna bring the car."
Mike points out the "No motorized vehicles" sign clearly posted at the entry to the Bugline.
"Civil disobedience," I counter.
As we walk from the trailhead to our home, Mike and I puzzle over various scenarios I could present to an arresting officer.
"I don't think 'I lost my hat' is gonna cut it," I say.
Mike suggests, "I lost my wallet," but reasons that the cop would ask me to show my driver's license, and I'd have it.
I don't figure that "I lost a contact" will do.
I wonder about "I lost my dog and I have to hurry to get to work."
Mike says, "You could ask, 'Did I make a wrong turn?'"
I decide to tell the truth if the Law catches me, and cast my fate to the wind.
We get home. I put the dog inside the house, grab my car keys, and say goodbye to Mike as he walks to the bathroom to take his shower.
I add, "I'm gonna go break the law."
It takes one minute to drive from our house to the Bugline. During that minute, I check my rear-view mirror and see a car come up behind me. I wonder if it's a cop, and sigh. There are never cops on our country road, which is why it's a favorite for speeders.
|Our mailbox and road|
The other car pulls up right next to me. Dang. No chance to pull in surreptitiously.
At least it's not a cop car. Wait a minute. It looks like - it IS! - the car of the young runner we've befriended from many meetings on the Bugline. It's Kim and her trusty dog Nala. Kim is there about an hour later than she usually shows up for her run.
|This is a photo of Kim & her daughter - from Kim's Facebook files.|
Kim quickly agrees to hunt for my hat on her morning run.
What are the odds against Kim appearing at just that moment? My mind spins with the possibilities as I drive home.
By the time I'm done making Mike's lunch, by the time he comes out of his shower, Kim has returned my old fuzzy hat to me via front-door hand-delivery.
A friend of mine says, "Coincidence is God's middle name." I can't imagine God bothering with a hat when there are so many other pressing concerns.
But still, I marvel at the beauty of coincidence.