My 2013 started with me losing my phone. Actually I left it in the cab. Good thing I made it a habit to text my Mom, sister and the friends I was just with with all the details of the taxi I took so if anything should happen, well at least I'd still have the last laugh! So when I realised I had left my phone I asked my sister to call my number first and when that didn't work out I called the cab company. I was able to get it back the next day after a lengthy conversation with the dispatcher and the driver. I was part lucky, part resourceful.
Today, June 4, I had left it again but this time not in a cab but in a trike. And although I'm resigned to the reality I might not get it back, there's a part of me that still hopes.
You see, the tricycle drivers in our village are mostly good people and are old, retired men (and women) who chose to drive a trike than be bored at home all day. There is a certain kind of security in the fact that they are from the neighborhood and have a personal interest in keeping it safe. And to top it all off, they haven't lost their provincial charm yet. Yes, this is that kind of village, where everybody knows everybody. You can stand outside your home and come back with news about anything and anybody. It's not strange to have people pass you by, people you don't know, and tell you that a house is on fire or there was an accident outside the village gate without being asked. And this news delivered with such familiarity. And that's what's most endearing. No matter that it's far from the city, the air is fresh and the people are neighborly, that was enough. And now for the happy ending.
I had just ended the sentence about the provincial charm when my sister got a text message. My phone is found yet again! The trike driver found it but had to wait for his daughter because he didn't know how to operate the phone. Now it's with me again, my phone found its way back to me again! The odds of it happening again was so great that my Tita said I should name it 'I SHALL RETURN'! (I dunno, maybe sometimes it just wants some space from me so it squeezes its way out of my pocket). My hope was not ill-placed afterall!
I know there's a lesson here somewhere and although I'm not sure what it is I know two things for sure: that my assessment of the driver was right (he had a kind face ergo he must be a kind man), and I should never put my phone in my pocket again.
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