Keys? Who needs 'em (My Sacred Life, day 10)

This picture shows the lacquer chest which sits in the entryway of our house. It is a memento, as are all the items on top of the chest, of Julia's time in Japan.

Note the little black tray? That's where my keys go. For as long as I can remember, I have been the tri-county champion keys-loser. Actually, "keys misplacer" is more accurate. I almost never lose my keys, I just don't recall where it was that I last put them down.

Having one place where I always put my keys is protection from my creative misplacement habit.

See any keys in that black tray? Me neither.

We had an extended-family barbecue last night at my sister's wonderful house--it is ideal for having a dozen or more over for a celebration. Heck...she hosted a joint graduation party for her son, my daughter, and her niece from her husband's side of the family, and there were easily a hundred people in attendance then. My mom's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!!) is later this week, and since yesterday evening offered the opportunity for the most members of the family to be together, we gave her an early party as part of the event.

We all were had by a good time, and as the evening wound down and it was time to pack up, I realized that my keys were not where I typically leave them when I visit my sister's house. Flashlight-toting searchers combing the grounds turned up no keys, either. Since Julia did not have her set with her, we ended up bumming a ride from my sister to our home, where our back-door neighbors (who were home, thank goodness!) handed over the emergency house key that we gave them a year or two ago.

[editor's note: if you don't have at least one neighbor who has a key to your abode, correct that omission soon! We have *three* neighbors (back, left, and right) who we have swapped keys with, and of those three, only one was home last night. All of the neighbors have, at one time or another, used our key to their house, too--it was our left-side neighbor who got us all doing the exchanging when they locked themselves out three times in a matter of only a few months]

So, early this morning, I drove our little 19-year-old "get Rick four miles down the road to work and back home again five days a week" Toyota over to my sister's so I could retrieve the Odyssey. It is far more suitable for Julia's needs, and she has some today.

My sister is an early riser, so she happened to be out inspecting her flowers when I pulled up. We walked together into the back where her garages are and the Odyssey was parked.

Because rethinking the night's events in my sleep had given me a clue, I walked right up to the vehicle and reached on top to grab the keys. Somehow, none of those wandering flashlights the night before had illuminated those keys sitting on the roof of the van.


Later today, Julia and I will drive back to my sister's one more time, this trip to retrieve the Camry. In the meantime, I am happy to publish this second photo, which shows that my sacred keys are home and placed lovingly in their proper place.

While I hope this is the last key adventure I will have for many moons, that's only a hope, not a guarantee. But to answer the title question: Who needs 'em? Me! And, I again have such a strong sense of relief to know they are right where they are supposed to me. In a week, I will have returned to my nonchalance about them. Like so many of the mundane items we touch every day--credit card, wallet, bus pass, etc--keys are hugely more important when you realize that they are not where they should be.