|Delicious, delicious noodles.|
I went into the house. I dropped my various baggage from the trip. I went back to the car and took out the leftover Thai food. I went back inside, put the food in the fridge, and I went for my knitting.
I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. My hands began to shake. A section of my brain turned off and another section turned on. This part of my brain said, "KNITTING KNITTING GONE KNITTING GONE WHERE LEFT? KNITTING KNITTING KNITTING."
My hands texted Rachael asking if there was any chance she had picked up my knitting with hers...?
I called Kozé. They had no knitting.
Part of me melted. Or exploded. It would have been better to leave my purse. A purse has ID inside it. Credit cards can be cancelled. Even if I bought the yarn I'd lost again, those days, weeks, MONTHS of work were gone forever. The yarn was in the parking lot? Or at the side of the road? Or worse, lost on the highway where it would never be found again, except perhaps by a road crew or a clean-up group, picking up trash and throwing it away in bags. I prayed.
My knitting would be tossed into a plastic bag and into a landfill. No one would enjoy it. No one would be warmed by it. I would never see it again. All that work was gone.
I called the restaurant again. I described the bag again, where we'd been sitting. I told them I wanted to check again before I made the hour and twenty minute drive to Fort Wayne again. They looked. Nothing.
Mum volunteered to drive because she thought I was apoplectic. We made it fifteen minutes down the road before my phone rang. It was Kozé. They'd looked again. They'd moved chairs around, crawled on the floor, and there was the knitting bag. It had been knocked back into the dark beneath the window next to our table when Rachael and I had left. It was safe.
"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed. I thanked them profusely and told them I was on my way to them to get it. "Thank you so much," I said. "You have no idea, really. This is such a huge deal!"
I hung up the phone. I burst into tears. Mum burst into tears. (It's a sympathetic thing. One of us cries, the other cries.)
We drove to Kozé. We picked up the knitting. It's here, now, next to me at home. Mum and I celebrated on the way back with caramel apple ciders. I kept thinking, this is exactly like the parable of the shepherd except instead of a sheep it is yarn and I am a knitter and not a shepherd. This is the exact real-world application all my Sunday school teachers tried to give us. All the examples they gave (lost homework, toys, sweatshirts) fell short compared to the real deal.
It is a Christmas MIRACLE. Rejoice with me, for I have found my lost yarn!