I have Saint Anthony to thank for a few things.
It started last week. A regular morning. Opening the top drawer of my dresser to rummage through the hundred pairs of underwear I own. I won't get into details of types and colours and how I simply adore undergarments, that doesn't have to do much with this story, if you will.
But as I sorted through the undies, there to my utter surprise, was the back of my 'missing' journal/notebook/blackbook peeking through the thongs. I knew it was the notebook. The unmistakeable green back. I knew I would turn it over and reveal it's front, the Anne Taintor picuture of the woman with the funny female quote. But what I didn't know is how the book got there.
My book had been missing since August 2011 when I was rearended on the long weekend, when I still had barely a memory after my father's death. I didn't know where I had put that book. And dammit, I had looked, had obsessed, had told friends about "the missing journal", had even called up that rental car place to see (after stupidly bringing my beloved journal out of the house on one stupid occasion) if my book had fallen into those black leather seats. All to no avail. No book.
But I swear I had looked in that same underwear drawer, swear I had, at least once since August when I had seen or used it last. So why did Saint Anthony put it there now?
Whatever the reason, one I will never know, the timing and the fact that my 'lost' book turned up out of nowhere, out of thin air, made for a happy day and made for happier final days of 2011. And not because I wanted to relive old memories or look up old phone numbers, but simply because there are parts of the past me that I want to just simply remember. With the reappearance of the book, it was a reminder that it is time for new memories, rekindling of some former friendships, and some more alone time as well to just find that happier version of myself that was with me just a few years ago. Time for work, school, writing and parenting, and thinking, no, knowing, it will work out this year, all of it. Saint Anthony was proving something to me, and I was reminded of that today, the second day of the new year that was for me a bit less happy than the last few weeks. Blame it on the anti-climactic or not-as-happy-new year's eve that I just experienced ( I really swear this time I'm not going "out" on another NYE or even trying to make plans for anyone but myself for that silly year end night), blame it on the death of a friend's father, or painfully remembering yesterday and today the death of my own father, but I won't let the next few days of 2012 be unhappy, sad or full of trying to make everyone else feel better about themselves. That's not what this year for me is about.
Thank you, Saint Anthony. You returned to me more than my journal.
