I lost my library card.
It’s one of my most important forms of identification. I’ve held in my hand far more often than my driver’s license or my passport.
I knew the card was easily replaceable, but I’ve had this particular card for 27 years. Before that I had the one issued to me when I was in high school, but I had to relinquish it when I changed my last name. I was attached to the card as much for the length of time it’s been in my possession as for the access it’s provided to feed my imagination and my intellect.
I’d removed the card from my wallet just before a trip out of the country; I knew I wouldn’t be checking out any books in a Mexico City library because I suspected it wouldn’t be accepted anyway. One of my first stops upon returning home was to my local branch. Fortunately, my license was accepted as alternative ID for the book I wanted. Yet, I worried. I couldn’t remember where I’d placed the card.
I went through my wallet multiple times; I ransacked my purse – just in case. I searched drawers, underneath piles of papers and books. I ended up organizing the clutter around my computer.
I wondered if I’d left in it the car. I hadn’t. I rearranged more untidiness. I opened one more drawer.
The next best thing to finding something that’s been lost is that sometimes it results in a little bit of cleanup.
The Blue Page Special 
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