the kindness of strangers

It is late afternoon when my phone rings.  I pick up.

“Hello Ms. Fammeeliant?  This is Essence calling from the Webster branch of the NY Public Library.  How'ya  doing today?”

I think how funny it would be if I answered honestly.  Instead I say, in my most business-like voice, “I’m fine.  How can I help you?” expecting a plea for a donation.

But Essence surprises me.

            “Did you recently lose a pair of keys?”

Yes, I did.

But not all that recently.  It was last July or August. I remember being upset by it, mainly because the key ring was one I’d had for a long long time and really liked.  It was from Tiffany’s and I had even called the store because I thought the key ring had said on it, “If found, please return to Tiffany’s.”  Of course, no one did, and I even felt foolish calling and asking.  I only tried them as a last resort, after I had called every place I had been that day.

Essence continues, “Well; we have your keys!”

I am amazed — even ending the call by ridiculously saying, "Essence, I love you."  I walk over to the library to get the keys, and again thank Essence profusely. 

Then I find the manager to thank him too.  “Where we these found?” I ask.  I’m thinking, did they get shoved into some corner and only now discovered? Were they lodged between books that are so arcane no one reads them?  Were they hidden under a rug that no one has bothered to move for cleaning?

“Someone brought them in from the street,” he tells me.  “They saw the library card on it and figured we could trace it.”

And that’s what they did.  Three months after losing my keys, someone finds them on the street, and brings them to the library. The library traces me down, and today I retrieve them.

Unbelievable!