Oh, dear.

In other words: I lost a beloved notebook today on a train.

Sad day.

There goes a lovely (copied, thank goodness) picture of my grandma, all evidence that there once was fall in Waco, the month of October, my coffee klatch reminder, most written memories thus far on the trip, and the other decorations on and contents of the moleskine.

Some good came out of it. An hour long trip out of my way in an attempt to retrieve it = time to stare out the window at Dutch country. Turns out the wood from 'The Magician's Nephew' is actually somewhere between Herleen and Maastricht. I saw it, though only for a moment, just as I imagined it to be when reading the book last summer. Also, as this was my first time in awhile to misplace something not inherently valuable but very much so to me, I was pretty starkly apprehended with the thought of the grief of our Father for His lost children, and His desire for their return home. My loss is miniscule, really.

Love
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