Lost and Found

The building was your typical late-1800s to early-1900s brick-on-stone, three-story city structure. It was really quite unremarkable except for the sign hanging over the doorway, swaying in the gentle breeze.  Again, the sign wasn’t all that special, but the weathered words skillfully hand-painted on it were eye-catching:

LONG LOST ITEMS
FOUND HERE

It was something of a miracle that I had found the little shop at all, having been lost for the better part of an hour because I couldn’t remember why I was searching for it.  However, painstaking perseverance and pointed directions from passers-by had finally led me to the door.

I studied the storefront window beside the building’s street-level entrance for several minutes from across the narrow, cobblestoned laneway.  Dusty panes hindered a view of the shop’s shadowy interior, and not one soul entered or left during my vigil.  I eventually found the courage to approach the entry, but only after I’d lost all patience with my hesitation.

Upon opening the door, I was greeted by the tinkling of a small bell strategically placed above the lintel. I knew right away that the interior of the shop would have caused every customer to stare in amazement, but no one else seemed to be there, not even the proprietor.

The shop was dimly-illuminated by light from the street, and I took several moments to allow my eyes to adjust.  Standing just inside the entry, I looked around the cramped space, breathed its stale air, heard nothing but my own breathing.

On the wall to my left was a bulletin board with a large sign affixed at the centre-top, bold hand-drawn letters proclaiming FOUND.  On my right was a second board, similarly covered, this one marked LOST.  Straight ahead of me, an ancient wooden counter barred access to a narrow, closed door in the rear. 

Approaching the board to my left first, I  glanced tentatively around the interior, but no one other than I was present.  I studied the multitude of notes pinned in front of me, apparently by customers expressing gratitude for the recovery of their prized possessions.  The heartfelt appreciation they conveyed washed over me like a warm ocean wave.

Thank you for finding my Lost Boys – P. Pan

Thanks so much for finding my lost world – M. Crichton

So happy you recovered my lost ark from the raiders – Indiana J.

Thanks for finding Nemo and Dory – W. Disney

Thank ya, thank ya ver’ much for your help in finding Graceland – Elvis

Thank God I found you – Mariah C.

Thanks for finding my book of lost tales – R. Tolkien

So glad you found the lost continent for me – E. R. Burroughs

Immensely grateful to you for finding my lost love’s labours – William S.

Brilliant!  You found our lost horizon – R. Colman and J. Wyman

“Ah, if only I might be as fortunate as these happy souls!” I murmured aloud.  “If only my search might be as successfully concluded as theirs.”

“There is no earthly reason to assume it cannot be so, my dear chap,” a creaky voice sounded in my ear. 

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned to face the speaker—a wizened little gentleman of advanced years, peering at me through colourless eyes, narrow spectacles perched on his pointed nose.  An ancient green eyeshade adorned his head, with tufts of sparse gray hair jutting hither and yon at all angles.  Whatever clothes he was wearing were hidden from view by a long, gray dust-jacket that reached almost to the floor from frail shoulders.

“I…I…seem to have lost something,” I stammered as I managed to recover from my momentary fright at his stealthy approach. “I need help finding it.”

“Indeed, that is why anyone comes to my little shop,” he nodded sagely.

“The thing is,” I continued, bolstering my resolve, “I’m not sure it’s something you can help me with.  I’m not sure anyone can.”

“Perhaps I might help you assure yourself, my dear fellow.  Have a peekaboo at the sorts of assistance my clients are currently requiring.” 

I followed him to the bulletin board on the right side of the shop, where, among the dozens of pitiable pleas for help, I read these. 

Please help!  I left my heart in San Francisco – Tony B.

I’ll never find another you – Sonny J.

I’m looking for the lost weekend – R. Milland

All is lost – R. Redford

Looking for the lost generation – Gertrude S.

I need to find the legend of the lost – S. Loren

You’ll never find another love like mine – L. Rawls

I’m in search of love – Barry M.

I need to find my vanishing heroes – R. Bachman

I’ve lost paradise – J. Milton

“These are your current clients?” I asked.

“They are,” the elfin proprietor said, “but not for long, I daresay.  We can boast of quite a remarkably short turnaround time for our searches.”

“And how much do you charge?” I asked, not being able to remember at that very moment the state of my financial affairs.

“From each according to his means,” the man said.  “But I am sure you will be happy with the results.  Tell me what you are seeking?  What is it you have lost?”

I struggled to remember why I had come.  After a few agonizing moments, I managed to say, “My memory!  I seem to have lost my memory!  Yes, that’s it!”

“Oh, my poor, dear chap,” the man said.  “That is indeed a most calamitous loss, one that must be recouped.  And immediately, to be sure.  There is no time to lose.”

As he spoke, he placed two bony hands over my ears.  I shrank involuntarily from their clammy coldness, but within seconds a strange warmth replaced it.  I believe I closed my eyes, but for how long I do not know.  When I opened them, the gnomelike man was gone.  I was alone once again in the little shop.

Now you, dear reader, having read this far, might well ask if the proprietor’s mysterious intervention was successful.  In reply, I can say only that I have remembered everything about my visit to the shop, well enough to relate it to you in all its detail.

And I also remember the newest testimonial pinned on the bulletin board before I left the shop, freshly written in my own hand:

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget.

It was signed by me—R. Kipling Esq.

_{© J. Bradley Burt 2021}