Postponing the To Do List

It was a sunny, warm autumn day.

A day that started slowly – catching up on emails, playing “my games” (Connections, Wordle, Strands, and Wridges – gosh when I write that out I see I play a LOT of games).  Moseying around the house.

But when it came time to get busy, I was ready to GET BUSY.

I even wrote a to do list (and managed not sit it down somewhere and lose it!).  On the list:  Walgreens, bank, post office.  Three tasks that can be completed on foot – perfect for a nice day.  List in hand, bag on shoulder, off I went.

Walgreens was the first stop – fail.  The product I wanted was triple what I knew it would cost other places.  No thanks.

Bank – slow as molasses, but got what I need to do done.

Next up was the post office.  Only, instead of walking the short way, I backtracked a block to walk the long way.  I did this because I knew that walking that direction, I might well pass a person experiencing homelessness who I am intrigued with.  They write notes and tape them onto buildings and I have only been lucky enough to meet them once – usually I just stop and read the myriad of cryptic notes.  Anyway, I knew if I went the long way I might see them.  It was lunch time and I planned to ask if I could buy them lunch.

But before I could get very far, I spotted something.

A cell phone in a pink case sitting on a bus stop bench.

Oh my…  I felt weird picking it up.  I didn’t want anyone to think I was stealing it.  But I looked around and the only person nearby was a man who was already talking on a phone, so obviously the one on the bench couldn’t be his.

I picked it up and opened the case.  There were 2 old photos inside.  The phone was locked with a PIN, so I couldn’t just open it up and see the contacts list to find “brother” or “boss” or “friend” to call. 

 

But then I saw the paper…  A little recipe/notecard was tucked inside the case.  It was filled with handwriting – name, then number.  Name, then number.  I recognized it as the system many older ladies use (we have a friend who does the same exact thing). 

Hmmm, this recipe card held the clues I needed!  I stood at the bus stop a while, hoping that the owner would come rushing back to get their phone.  When they didn’t, I got to work.

First – examine the card.  Is the first name the person she (by this time I felt the owner was a she) was closest to??  I didn’t know how to pronounce that name though.  I was not sure what nationality the name derived from, but I was hoping that whoever I called would speak English so I could explain the situation easily.  I scrolled down to a female name and dialed…

No answer.  Of course no answer – the incoming call was from a strange number!  They thought I was spam or a telemarketer.

So, I left a voice mail.

Called another number on the card, no answer.

Left a voice mail

Called another number, no answer.

Left a voice mail.

And in between my calls, the mysterious cell phone kept getting TEXTS.  Text after text after text.  A new text popped in every 90 seconds or so!  Texts about car insurance.  Texts about a home owners insurance policy.  Sales texts.  Random texts.  This poor woman gets a lot of texts!!

I could see the texts pop in but couldn’t click on them to read them.  But I did notice that they were all addressed to the same person:  Faina.  “Dear Faina” this and “Dear Faina” that. 

I left basically the same voicemail each time.  “Hi, my name is Susan.  I found a cell phone at a bus stop in Arlington, Virginia.  It has a paper inside with a list of names and numbers, and you are on it.   I think the phone belongs to someone named Faina.  Do you know her?  I have the phone.  I don’t want to leave it at the bus stop because I am afraid someone will take it.  Please return my call.  Thanks.”

In between leaving voicemails, I came up with a new tactic:  FACEBOOK.  I posted the photo above in 2 local Facebook groups and asked if anyone knew a woman named Faina and that I had found her cell phone.

This sweet comment came in on one of the posts: “If it's the same lady I am thinking about, she walks up and down the Pike a lot. She comes to our restaurant (The Celtic House) a few times a week. You can leave it with us if you like and we can pass it on to her, I see her almost every day.”

Ah-ha!  Celtic House!  That is near the bus stop!!  I felt like a Private Investigator piecing this story together bit by bit.  Faina.  Woman.  Senior Citizen.  Popular with scam texters.  Takes the bus.  Likely lives near Celtic House…

More phone calls to numbers on the card.

More voicemails.

As I was deciding which name to call next, my phone rang!  A call back!

Only, the man said he did now know anyone named Faina.  Boo!  (Why did Faina have him on her list??)

I left 11 voicemails. Yup – Faina had a LOT of names and numbers on her little card, she wrote on both sides.

Finally, another call back!  And this woman KNEW Faina!  And was very, very thankful I had found the phone and kept it safe.  She gave me Faina’s address.  I was right!  She lived only a few blocks from where she got off the bus.

I took a minute to tell the woman that Faina was getting texts.  A LOT of texts.  And it seemed like they were trying to scam her.  I wanted to make sure someone knew and could help the woman so she didn’t get tricked into sending money somewhere.

I told the woman on the phone that I would walk home and get in my car, then drive to drop off the phone at Faina’s apartment.  On my walk home, Faina’s granddaughter called on FAINA’S phone and I answered it (didn’t need a PIN to answer).  I explained the situation and she, too, was very relieved.  She explained that her grandma has some memory issues, and I warned her about the texts, too.

When I got home, I found some tiny cupcakes that a kind donor had left for the Little Yellow Free Pantry.  Faina needed some cupcakes!  Poor woman was probably having a bad day, what with having lost her phone and all.

I drove down Columbia Pike toward her house, and that’s when I saw her:  FAINA!

She was walking ON THE PIKE because the sidewalk was torn up with construction.  I do not know HOW I knew it was her, I just DID!  I felt it!!!  I wished I could pull over and holler her name, but because of the construction I couldn’t, so I parked at her apartment and went in.

I explained the situation to the ladies at the front desk.  “Oh, FAINA??” they said, “She JUST left!”.

I KNEW IT, y’all!  I just knew that had been her!!  I confirmed what she looked like, left my car parked in the apartment lot, and headed off on foot to find Faina!  I was on a mission!  Me, the pack of tiny cupcakes, and Faina’s phone, hot on her trail!!!

But I didn’t see her.  So, I rushed back, jumped in the car, and drove down Columbia Pike looking for her.  I thought maybe she was at the bus stop checking to see if her phone was there.  Nope.  Couldn’t find her.

But…  I had the clue about a restaurant she frequents…  I pulled into the Celtic House parking and went in.  I asked if they knew her and if she was there.  They did know her, but she wasn’t there at the moment.  DRAT.

Defeated, I returned to the apartment, still hoping maybe Faina had gone home while I had been out hunting.  But the front desk ladies said no, she was not back.   I wrote a little note for her (including my name and number) and left the phone and cupcakes with the staff.  They said she often stops to talk with them and they are friends with her, which made me happy.

That was all around 2:00 PM. 

Then at 7:19 PM, my phone rang…

You guessed it, FAINA!

Just as I had been afraid to mispronounce the name on her handwritten note, she mispronounced mine.

“Slisa??” she said.

“This is Susan,” I replied.  “Is this Faina??”.

YESSSSS IT WAS!  She called to thank me for finding and returning her phone.  She was so sweet!  She wants me to come visit.  “I am not working, I have time,” she said.

I have time, too, Faina.

The laundry may not get done.

The sheets might not get changed.

Several items may not get checked off of the eternal to-do list.

But I have time.

Time to connect.

Time to make a new friend.

Time to be kind.

Because if I do not take time – no, if I do not MAKE time for moments such as this – how meaningful will my life be?

I am grateful to have a perspective of kindness.

Of caring.

Of slowing down when the opportunity presents itself.

I will make time to go meet Faina.  I will talk to her, maybe bring her more treats.

Because that is what life is.  A series of moments.  Of strangers.  Of tiny cupcakes. 

And of connections.