The Plate

I only lost one thing when we moved into this house. It was small in size, but not in importance. It was a plate. My friend MaryEllen gave it to me when I was probably nineteen or twenty. She got it in Greece. Since the day she gave it to me, I've had it on my dresser and it is where I put earrings or other jewelry when I take them off and don't feel like putting them back where they belong. 

After a few days or weeks, it gets rather full, and eventually I decide it's time to empty the plate and put everything away. Before we moved I packed it. I didn't take the time to put everything away, I just packed it. I had no real recollection of what was on it. I put it all in a bag, wrapped the bag in packing paper, and added it to a box. 

As I was unpacking I kept thinking it would turn up. I unpacked every box, and still didn't find it. There were a couple other things I couldn't find, so I convinced myself the plate, and those other things were in a missing box that would likely turn up. One by one I found the other things. All that was left missing was the plate.

I started dreaming about the plate. Every night I'd dream I found another box, opened it, and there it was. And then I'd wake up. No plate. It wasn't so much losing it, although it was. But it was more that I'm so ridiculously organized, how could I have possibly lost something I remember so clearly having packed. And where could it possibly be? 

Yesterday morning as I was getting dressed, I reached up on a shelf in our closet and pulled down a basket of socks. I don't usually wear socks as the weather gets warmer, but yesterday was chilly. As I pulled it down, there on the top of the basket was my plate. It was still wrapped in packing paper, but I immediately knew by its size and shape what it was.

The weird part is, I unpacked those baskets of socks. I put them up on those shelves. There simply isn't anyway I could've missed the plate. No possible way.

How did it get there? Where had it been? It isn't the first time in my life I've felt as though something has appeared, or disappeared, or reappeared inexplicably. Missing the plate bothered me, but it's reappearance doesn't. I won't ponder the mystery or try to figure it out. I'm happy to accept that the plate is back and leave it at that. 

And once again I find myself sending gratitude out into the universe. Whoever, whatever, however the plate ended up there . . . I'm appreciative.