I have the unfortunate habit of losing my sunglasses in the Atlantic Ocean. I've done it a few more times than I'd like to admit over the last several years. And they're never the old, lopsided sunglasses that I leave in my car console in case of an emergency. Nope, the lost glasses are always my most favorite pair, swiped from the top of my head by an irreverent wave and carried out to the distant sea faster than I can wipe the salt from my bleary eyes.
That said, when I lost my last favorite pair a couple of months ago, around mid-June when I was in Litchfield, i never thought I'd see them again. Not that I didn't hopefully check out the shoreline after I noticed they were gone. But in all my years of being a sun worshipper, I'd never had sunglasses swallowed by the ocean do anything except disappear for eternity.
Til now, that is.
The Sunday before Labor Day, I went to lunch with my Daniel Island gang after church and they told me they had a "gift" back at the house for me.
"A gift?" I was thoroughly bemused. "What is it?"
"Remember those glasses you lost in Litchfield? Well....We found them when we went crabbing yesterday."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"Yep. We cleaned them off and they look amazing."
I know what y'all are thinking, blog readers. Because I've already heard it from the other people I've shared this amazing story with:
They bought you another pair at the store. They're pulling your leg.
Another woman with your same glasses lost hers on Daniel Island.
That's not likely, for a pair of glasses to float from Litchfield Beach to Daniel Island and TO END UP BY YOUR TUTEE'S HOUSE.
Yes, I've heard it all. And you know what? I've decided I don't care! I got my magic glasses (as I'm now calling them) back last night when I took Rachel home from shopping, and they look the exact same. Maybe just a little bit beat up. A little bit of sand and salt in the crevices. It gives 'em character.
And given the fact that they made their way back to me, I think I'll be a little more careful with them this time.