I’m old but I am still surprised sometimes by the twists and turns of fate, and I am constantly reminded that there are exceptional people in the world.
Last month I spent days, maybe even weeks, creating a balcony garden I could access. We put a chair outside so that I could transfer from the wheelchair and enjoy the greenery and the summer weather.
It was perfect.
As directed by my children, I take my cellphone with me everywhere. I put 911 on speed dial so they wouldn’t worry. Most of my regular trousers have been purchased with that in mind – large pockets abound. Everything was going well until I changed my routine or my clothes.
My jeans (a gift from my daughter) have pockets, but they are not as deep as those in my other slacks. Even so, the phone fit in my pocket and I felt confident I could sit on the balcony for an hour or two. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon.
As I transferred to the outside chair, however, my cellphone fell out of my pocket onto the cement balcony, took a huge bounce, and disappeared. I stared at the spot where it had leaped through the railing and could hear the bangs and crashes as it fell from the 26th floor. It was gone.
After I recovered from the shock of losing my lifeline to the world, I went into action. The wheelchair and I went down to ground level, and I searched the flower beds below my apartment to no avail. The phone was somewhere else. But where?
Back in my apartment again, I quickly sent an email to my family and to the building management advising them of my disaster. Then I typed a note asking if anyone had seen or heard my phone’s disastrous fall, set out my email address (I had no phone number), and then printed 25 copies – one for each unit below me.
But where do I start delivering my letters? On the ground floor or the 25th floor?
Downwards, I decided, so off I went. The distance from the elevator to my unit’s column, is half the building, four units. The trip to each floor took precious time and as I knocked and shoved notes under doors I realized that if the phone fell as far as I thought it had, I was approaching this all wrong. I left the 24th floor and rushed downstairs to start at the bottom and work my way up.
No one on any floor responded to my tapping on their doors, but I did meet a few people in the elevator where I explained the one-story ride with an embarrassed explanation about the loss of my phone. I persevered and was finally within range of my final delivery, floor 23.
As I got on the elevator on the 19thfloor, I met another young man. I asked him to push the button for the next floor up (by this time I really didn’t know which number it was) and apologized for interrupting his journey home. As he reached for the control panel, I made my usual explanation: “I am chasing my phone,” I announced.
He turned, looked at me in amazement, held out the cellphone in his hands and asked, “Do you live on 26? I am on my way to return this one. I live on 23 and found it on my balcony.”
I couldn’t believe the remarkable coincidence. If he had gone up, I would have been out delivering notices to floors 20, 21, 22, and 23.
I gave my name and unit number and Sam introduced himself. He explained that after he found the phone, he located my son’s phone number in the Favourite Contacts, called him, and asked for my apartment number. James lives in Winnipeg and was at work, and didn’t have my full address handy but knew it was this building.
Armed with the confirmation that I lived at this address, Sam then went down to the directory in the lobby and found my unit number. Thus, he was on his way up to 26 when fate intervened.
I am so grateful the phone was found, still functioning, by Sam. He went that extra mile to locate me, and I know that not everyone would have been so inclined.
I choose to see this incident as proof that fate and good people inhabit our world, and our lives are better for their existence.
Or was it only luck?