Saturday, I was getting ready to go out and it was a pretty sunny day in San Francisco, so I hunted for my sunglasses. They were nowhere to be found. I'm still in a relatively new and somewhat empty apartment, so there weren't a lot of places to search and it wasn't long before I determined that the last place they could be is on my desk at work. I made a mental note to stop by the office and check, but the weekend was busy and I just never got around to it.
I spent the weekend lamenting my missing sunglasses and hope hope hoping that they were indeed on my desk. I've had this pair for almost two years, which might be a record for me, and they're my favorite pair of the last ten or fifteen years probably. They are a nice pair of Black Flys, which I got for ridiculously cheap when my homie Otis let me in on the secret that the Marshall's near where he lives often has really nice sunglasses marked way down. My sunglasses were not only awesome, but they represented a shopping triumph, which is a rare thing for a dude to enjoy.
My sunglasses went to Mexico with me on my honeymoon, and we trekked all over the Yucatan together. They were a daily necessity for the year I lived in Hawaii, and they dutifully blocked the wind on many scooter rides there, in Seattle, and here in California. My sunglasses kept me incognito in public situations where I wasn't up for facing people, and they've hidden the many eyelid deformities I've suffered as a result of chalazia.
Once, while riding my scooter as fast as it would go along the Kalanianaole Highway on the windward side of Oahu, a rock kicked up from the car in front of me and flew straight at my face. It hit the frame of my sunglasses and deflected off, probably saving my eye. The lenses remained unscratched.
I arrived at the office and walked to my desk filled with hope, but as I arrived that hope was crushed. My sunglasses were nowhere to be found. It was official. They were gone and now I was going to have to find a new pair of sunglasses and just move on. It was sad to think about. I knew I'd just flounder for a while, making my way with no sunglasses, and eventually settling on a decidedly less awesome pair. Life would go on, but I knew it wouldn't be the same.
I went to the break room to try to score some breakfast and was telling a coworker the sad tale when I glanced across the hall, through an open door, at the table in a dark conference room. There, on the edge of that table, in a shining beam of glorious light, truth, and justice, sat my sunglasses! I don't know how they got there, and I really don't care what happened to them between my desk and the conference room. We were reunited, as it was meant to be.
I know they're just sunglasses, but they're MY sunglasses, and it's really good to have them back.