My morning started early with a meeting. I would spend the rest of the day bouncing back and forth between seminars, summits and symposiums. My night would end with a round table discussion and suggestion session. When I finally made it home I was already preparing for tomorrow until I turned the key to unlock my door… I didn’t have my bag.
An anxious panic overwhelmed me. A cold sweat and a loss of breath soon followed. I had everything in that bag: my journal, a diary and notes for several books and projects including original drafts that had yet to be copied or transcribed.
While retracing the details of my day I realized I left it at my last appointment. Quickly, I called my contacts. Nobody was answering. I dialed information for the number of the restaurant where we met… they forwarded my call. An employee picked up. The bag was nowhere to be found.
I began to convince myself that this was a sign. It was meant to be. Maybe the journal, my diary and those books and projects were supposed to land in the hands of someone else. Fate. And then my phone rang. Paul had my bag. He picked it up before he left and would have it for me in the morning.
I was back to the middle just as I was ready to start from the beginning.
