I love new beginnings, fresh starts. There’s something adventuresome, daring, even exciting at experiencing a pathway or project or something, that has not been done yet in 2019. So far, I kind of lost my Hubby and sort of had my car stolen.
Hubby had treated me to a fabulous birthday lunch at one of our favourite places. “The Snug” has a spectacular ocean view beyond their lower gardens and outdoor eternity pool, appearing as if nestled at the water’s edge. It was cold and windy with sporadic bouts of heavy rain. I could see the hardier guests enjoying their dip in the pool, then scurrying off to the right to lounge in one of two hot tubs, privately screened by the ornamental bushes and trees. It was entertainment while we waited for our lunches. Afterwards, content and relaxed, we strolled back to the elevator taking us to the parkade. I remembered we had parked the car in a space that directly faced the door that separated the parkade from the elevator. There was only an empty space where the Volvo had been left.
“Our car’s been stolen!” I yelped.
“Are you sure?” Hubby calmly replied.
“I’m looking at the empty space.”
“And, that’s definitely where we left the car?”
“Yes, it’s been stolen!”
“Are there other levels of parking?” Hubby remained calm. That made me pause. I had always driven in, parked at that level and returned in the elevator that had always brought me back to the same level. We went back to the elevator and when it arrived, Hubby and I checked the panel. Yep, there were three levels that I never noticed before. I pressed the next floor to see if that was the one we wanted.
“Wait here, Sweetie, while I run over to the parkade door’s window to see if our car’s on this level.”
I forgot to tell him to block the elevator from closing its door and taking off. Just as I turned around to say, “Must be the next level,” the elevator door whoomped shut and spirited Hubby away. The other elevator opened and a kindly man asked if I needed an elevator.
“Thank you, but I’m waiting for my husband to return on this one,” I replied.
“Oh boy, been there, done that,” he replied, rolling his eyes and laughing. “Good luck!”
My elevator eventually returned, along with a calm, relaxed Hubby and another couple who rode the elevator with him to make sure he got reunited with his lost wife.
“The next level is the one,” I announced, happy to find him patiently waiting and hopeful the family vehicle would be magically in its proper spot.
“Lost the car and my husband,” I cheerfully explained. They nodded and smiled.
“Happens a lot,” said the lady, laughing. When the elevator arrived at PL1, Hubby and I exited. Through the windows of the parkade door, our “Silver Bullet” patiently waited.
“I’m so glad you were still in the elevator,” I murmured, hugging my calm, patient partner.
“Hey, I knew I wasn’t lost and eventually you would enter the same elevator. Besides I also met some nice people and our car wasn’t stolen. I like to think we were checking out new “addresses” while our Volvo was still residing at the same old one!”