Diary 281

Diary 281

Wednesday, December 24th

A (true) Christmas Story

Many years ago, when my family lived in Sardinia, the sun could be cruel especially in Winter when a cool breeze deceived you as to its power. The seat covers on our patio chairs were shredded by its onslaught after only one summer. My father realized what this meant for human eyes and got me a pair of Air Force sunglasses from the Quartermaster. He told me to take care of them.  This I did. But one day, well after Christmas, I was climbing a hill to where I knew some stone age caves lurked. It was a long climb through thorn and scrub, rocky, sweaty.  And I lost the sunglasses.

I was mortified.  My father was annoyed. I was on my own for sunglasses after that.

He wore his own set of Air Force issue glasses for the next few decades.  When he died I found them in his desk.  It was only when I put them on that I saw how scratched and scuffed they were, and I came then to understand that the sunglasses I had lost were nominally his replacement glasses, as permitted by the Service. He’d given me the new ones he was entitled to – glasses that were not for sale – and struggled on with the old ones.

A decade or so later I was still wearing ‘his’ glasses when a houseguest, the daughter of my parents’ friend, an acquaintance from another fading era, managed to break them.  I kept the pieces but couldn’t repair the broken frame.

From time to time I’d search for a replacement on line and that was when I came to know just how expensive these glasses were, even used, battered and secondhand, and how highly they were esteemed. I felt I couldn’t justify paying that sort of sum for a sentimental memory and so I bought cheap replacements instead – which did not last.

Then just a few days ago, I saw a set on eBay. I bid, not daring to believe the very low starting price would remain that way for long. I checked each day. Still no other bids. Could they really be the same thing? Why was no one bidding? For some reason I couldn’t decide if I was being stupid or just confused.

I won the auction for $10.  In due time the glasses arrived and set me thinking anew about the whole process.  I finally had my sunglasses, really mine, and just in time for Christmas. And it was fifty years almost to the day since I’d got that first set.

The things we lose that we mourn do come back to us, often in unexpected ways and forms, and when they do we find we are changed, more grateful.