On June 23rd 2021, I lost my wallet. A haze to me right now, Juliet remembered the date. I only remember my panic. I still do.
It fell out of my handbag while I was loading birthday balloons into the back seat of my car, and I didn’t notice until I was well on my way, onto my next errand. Driving back to that parking lot I asked god, any god, to please have it be there, sitting there – but it was gone, complete with my license, credit cards, and a coded cheat sheet for all my security passwords. With guidance from our financial person Sarah, I quickly ended all accounts, changed all passwords, and logged the loss at my local police station in the hopes that someone would return it to me. It’s what I would have done.
Two weeks later I received an email naming one of my newly obsolete passwords and asking for $2,687 in bitcoin, else my porn site activity would be revealed to the world. Okay, any other threat would have had me spinning, but this one succeeded at least in recalling my trauma.
Fast forwarding to now, eighteen months later, we’re in the process of moving and I’ve arranged to have our mail forward to an interim P.O. Box. The post office people told me it would take two weeks for the forwarding to kick in so I’ve been making my way back to Brookline to check. On Friday, the last day for potential delivery, I found this.
It’s called closure.
Angels all around us – my latest knit design, published 4/9/2023.
