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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor

April

The Architect

Clay

I left my husband cont……

this is the rest of the story…..

Thoroughly humiliated yet safe within my house I began thinking about my poor lost and destroyed camera.  What dummy puts a camera on the roof of a vehicle? It brought back an old childhood memory (insert wavy, dream-like music). My mom was searching for her camera. She was ranting and raving about it being on the counter just moments before, 
“Where is it? Who took it? Girls!! Girls! Where’s my camera?”
 She still had photos in it from our trip to Egypt and was eager to get them developed. Where was it?
 “Girls? Somebody moved it. Who moved the camera?”
My chore for that day was to take out all the garbage to the barrels that we used to burn our trash. Being a very obedient child, I took every trash bag I found out to the barrels where my father immediately set fire to the heap. 
“Girls it was right here on the counter in a black plastic bag. Who moved it?” 
Gulp. “Mom, did you say black plastic bag? Like a black trash bag plastic bag?” I was looking at my mom and she instantly knew what I had done. 
“Did you throw it away?” 
“Yes, I’m so sorry, Mom, I didn’t know. I thought it was trash.”  
Oh, the agony the utter despair. Mom was so disappointed, I felt so terrible.  I went to my peach and green floral room and flopped on my bed.  I cried and between sobs I prayed a very childish prayer, “God, please bring the camera back, let Mom find it somewhere, please don’t let it be melting in the trash barrel….amen.”  
A few moments later I head Mom squealing, “I found it, I found it!  The camera was right here!  April you can stop crying now because I FOUND THE CAMERA!”  
Well, of course she found it, that’s what I prayed for.  I thanked God and went about my day.
Now, standing in my kitchen looking out at the van thinking of that moment so long ago I said the same prayer, “God, please let me find my cam…..what the heck is that?”  I squinted my eyes, there was something wedged in front of the luggage rack.  Is that, could it be?  Oh.  My. GOD!!!  That’s my camera!!!!  Forgetting about my modesty issues just moments before I ran out to the van in my pajama pants, t-shirt, no shoes and no bra.  I stretched my arm across the roof of the van and rescued my camera.  “Hey, kids!  I found the camera!!”  
After spending an entire night and morning riding around on the top of the van it was cold but completely unharmed.  
So I hopped back in the van….no I didn’t.  No, I didn’t get in the van and drive down the road to retrieve Clay.  I left him out there to walk and feel guilty, to suffer.   I went back in the house, ate breakfast, took a cup of coffee out to the porch and waited for him to appear walking down the lane.  
“I didn’t find it.” he said coming up to the porch.  
 I stood on the porch posed with the camera gently resting in the palm of my hand.  
“Where?” 
 “On top of the van.” I said with sarcastic smugness
 “You know,” he stated matter of fact, “I wasn’t so sad to loose the camera as I was to loose all those great photos I took of the corn harvest, but I didn’t really want to go buy a new camera today either.”   And I replied, “You’re never allowed to touch my camera again, ever.” 
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