I lost my debit card, yesterday.
Did you read that? I lost my debit card!
Don’t worry. The bank has been notified and the card has been cancelled, so there’s no need to panic. Still, this loss is tragic for me. I mean, my debit card: Lost. Sure, they’ll send me a new one and I can use Dave’s debit card until then, but it’s sort of like taking my cousin to the prom because my date backed out. It’s just not the same.
I had a special relationship with my debit card. I can hardly remember life before it came along. Checks, bills, coins – I said good-bye to all of them after I met my debit card. It was so easy and convenient that soon, we did everything together. I didn’t go anywhere my debit card wasn’t welcome. I knew the number, the expiration date, even the three digit security card on the back by heart. I probably could have identified my card by touch alone. My fingertips had memorized the swipey groove I’d always trace just before handing it over to pay. I loved that card and always took loving care of it until yesterday.
Yesterday was a busy day. Julia had swim class in the morning and then we went shopping. After we got home, I had so much to do: laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping, writing, reviewing…and procrastinating all that work took a lot of time and effort. Before I knew it, it was almost time to wake Dave up for work and I had yet to make him dinner. I sped into town to pick up something quick, but couldn’t find my card when it came time to pay. Panicked, I looked at the cashier and screamed, “MY DEBIT CARD IS GONE,” and ran off.
All the way home, I replayed the day’s events to try and surmise where my card might be. The last time I used it was to purchase this dress for Julia earlier:
I remembered checking out. The cashier was a young boy named Shiloh. I can remember thinking, “Wow, a pre-Brangelina Shiloh. Wonder how he came to work here… He looks a lot like Nick Simmons. I kinda like that Shiloh kid.” I remember signing the receipt. I remember him handing me my copy and my debit card. I remember reviewing the receipt on the way to the car while Julia jumped in mud puddles. I remember getting into the car and noticing two dudes hanging out in a van parked near us and thinking, “They look like they’re up to no good.” Then, I thought I remembered putting my card back in my wallet, but it wasn’t there.
I got home and checked the car I’d taken shopping and couldn’t find it. I ran into the house, out of breath and sweaty, screaming, “I LOST MY DEBIT CARD!” My parents came running and soon the whole family was searching. Since they had the house covered, I grabbed a flashlight and went outside to retrace all my steps. I even caught myself calling out, “Where are you debit card?!?!” It was nowhere to be found. I came back inside and managed to get Dave up for work, fed him some hot dogs and packed his lunch, all while having a full fledged freak out. Once he was out the door, the rest of us piled into the car to go back and search the store parking lot with no success. We returned home around 11:30 p.m. Defeated, I retreated to bed and dreamed of my poor, lost debit card sitting on hard, wet concrete, all alone, cold and in the dark.
This morning, I called the store to see if my card had been turned in there, but it hadn’t. I left my name and phone number, just in case it turned up. Reluctantly, I called the bank to cancel my card and put an end to a longstanding relationship with one of my best friends. Although I can’t use it anymore, I still hope it shows up. I need the closure.