I Once Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

So yesterday I had a bit of an incident.

Long story short, I was in the Marriott Center half-listening to devotional and waiting for my chance to stand in line for this game. After the closing prayer I hustled my way out into the snow to get in line.

I have the bad habit of wearing slick-soled shoes at the most inconvenient times (like when it starts to blizzard out of nowhere while I'm at work). So as I was hustling, Connor called out, "Melissa, don't fall!" I turned around and yelled, "I won't fa--" and you guessed it, ate it on the snow. This situation happens to me often so I popped back up and just kept on hustling.

When my friends and I got settled in the back of the line, I started to dust the snow off my backpack. I saw to my horror that one of the pockets was open. I checked through the pocket: phone? check. half-eaten granola bar? soaked, but check. interior design notecards? check (for all the work those things took me I will never throw them away. You will pry them from my cold dying hands). As I searched, Paige asked, "Are you looking for your iPod? I saw one in the snow." Dang it. That's what I was missing. I handed her the backpack and ran back up to the scene of the incident.

As you know, looking for something is one of the more awkward experiences you can have. You're walking against the flow of traffic staring intently on the ground. A couple people asked to help me but it only took a few minutes for me to realize my iPod was gone.

My iPod. Gone. My beautiful iPod touch that I found on Craigslist and bought at a would-be shady meet-up at Jamba Juice. My iPod with its impressive collection of Taylor Swift, Simon and Garfunkel and quasi-hipster jams. My iPod that had gotten me through car trips, airplane rides, and daily walks to class. My iPod that I lost for three months because I left it in a purse that I never used.

In hindsight, I can't decide if I was more depressed that my iPod was gone or that the person who found it would see that I had been listening to "Escape" by Enrique Iglesias. Loud. On repeat. Awkward.

I walked back the line depressed. Then, a friendly police officer asked if I needed help. "I lost my iPod," I said, "I can't find it anywhere." He reached in his pocket and pulled out...my iPod! My precious, prodigal iPod. I looked the officer in the eyes and put my hand on his shoulder in what I thought was an endearing and sincere gesture (in hindsight he probably saw it as threatening and creepy), and said, "Sir, you are an answer to my prayers." He shrugged my arm off, "Uh huh, ok get back in line."

I walked back to the line holding my iPod in the sky like Harry Potter holds a Snitch. Then I stuck it in an inner pocket and zipped it up tight.
-mdc