I was looking for my copy of The Plan B Workbook. I wanted to collect all my banking information in one place. So I walked out to the living room and looked at the table where I last remembered seeing it. Not there.
Then I looked at the top layer which has accumulated on top of the coffee table. Not there either, and probably not in one of the lower layers either.
I turned my attention to a box that is wedged between the coffee table and the entertainment center. Books, mostly, and a very large, very dead bug, and a sheaf of papers. Medical receipts. Stuff pertaining to Beloved's treatment at the facility we fired. And just below that a blue-bordered piece of paper. Could it be? It was.
I had commented to more than one friend at the wedding or the reception that while it was nice (if a little unnerving) to feel Beloved's presence there, what I really needed was for him to tell me where he'd put the title.
Thank you, honey. I am so grateful for a husband who is as thoughtful and helpful after death as you were in life.