Yesterday my husband Chris and I had a lovely family lunch with my sister, her husband, and three of our niblings. We decided on Mexican cuisine, and since we were already visiting the area, we chose a restaurant that was near my sister’s home, but about 40 minutes and 30 miles away from mine. Keep that last detail in mind.
The food was great, the service was excellent, and the company was sublime. I love spending time with family. We walked out of the restaurant with full bellies and fuller hearts, and after a round of hugs, Chris and I made our way home. Little did we know that on the way back to our car, Chris dropped his wallet in the parking lot.
We had just pulled into the gas station down the road from our house when I got a phone call. I didn’t recognize the number, so I ignored it, but when my phone buzzed with a text notification a few seconds later, I decided to check it out.
The text was from a complete stranger. It read, “Hi! Any chance you’re related to a Chris? If so, we found his wallet.” I replied that he was my husband, and confirmed the name of the restaurant we had been to that afternoon (shout out to Plaza Azteca in KOP). The kind stranger informed me that my husband’s wallet was waiting for him at the front desk of the restaurant.
At first I wanted to choke him, but Chris beat himself up enough as we began the trek back, so I chose not to lose my shit and spared him the scolding. I knew he was looking forward to going home and loafing on the couch after a brutal week of laborious work. I knew how tired he was. Dude dozed off sitting up in his chair at the restaurant.
He was so close, literally blocks away, but couldn’t go home to spend the rest of the afternoon on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness under his coziest blanket – at least not for another hour and a half or so.
I wanted to cheer him up, so I reminded him of the time I had lost my wallet, only then the wretched person who found it tried to buy almost $3000.00 of goodies from Game Stop, Apple, and Target. The scoundrel even tried to withdraw money with my debit card.
Luckily my bank and credit card companies flagged the transactions and shut down my cards and accounts, but that meant that I had to switch all of our recurring payments – the mortgage, internet, phone, utilities, college loan payments, streaming services, everything had to be transferred to the new account information. It was a mother-frickin’ nightmare that I did not want to repeat.
But thankfully, Chris’ wallet was discovered by someone with integrity and a heart. And I reminded him of that too. Life nowadays is hard, and too often the worst of humanity is shoved in our faces by needlessly cruel internet trolls, racists, misogynists, and the assholes who don’t pull over far enough when making a left turn so the rest of us can pass by. There’s a special place in Hades for those selfish douchebags.
Chris was eventually able to shake out of his funk, and we could both feel grateful that there are still people with compassionate hearts who will take the time to track down the owner of a lost wallet (or wife of said owner).
It didn’t erase the long drive or lost time, but it reminded us of something better – that in a world where the shittiest voices are often the loudest, there are still good people quietly choosing to be kind.
To the finder of the wallet, may you always snag the best parking spot at any location, may your snacks never run out before the end of a movie, and may your kindness be returned to you a thousand fold.
Chris eventually did make it to the couch.
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