I watched him walk off pushing his golf clubs on their little hand cart. I felt intensely sorry for him. It has been a very challenging year for him physically with monthly eye injections to treat macular degeneration, prostate cancer that had metastasized into his sacrum, and recently an upper respiratory virus that had knocked us both around. He has endured it all with great tolerance and mostly good humour. But today was the kicker. He lost his golf buggy keys. His only grown up toy he’s ever had. It has given him extra hours of golf with his mates, and is especially valuable now that we are in the summer heat and his body is still going through treatments.

When he realised this morning the keys were missing he searched. We searched. We even wore our glasses to search. So off he walked, to the club at least 20 mins brisk walk, to further walk for another 4-5 hours of golf. (in case you are wondering, a round of golf here is around 12 kilometres) He’s five years my senior and I couldn’t do it. I have my doubts whether he should be doing it, still recovering from the virus we’ve both had last week. We got the virus after being away for medical tests, then coming home and two days later having the latest COVID booster, then two days after that getting the virus. It was not COVID. There is a lovely new virus arrived on our shores to dampen any enthusiasm we might have had for Christmas in 9 days. I can assure you there was already no enthusiasm in our house. Only quiet anticipation for more quiet.

Because it rained and he was wet when he come home from golf a week ago, he uncharacteristically hung up his shorts to dry. He thought he’d put them in the wash later but the pair he put in the wash was from another day or something because I’d already washed them and there were no keys. About an hour after he’d left I thought I’d have a fresh look in his cupboard. After all I have my reputation as the understudy to the ‘Goddess of Small Lost Things’ to maintain. I thought he may have accidentally tossed them in with the gear he is keeping packed for when he has to return to Darwin for more treatment. I noticed something odd in the way his clothes were hanging. It was a pair of crappy looking shorts with the belt still on them, hanging awkwardly that I hadn’t seen before. He never hangs his shorts like that. I felt the pocket and it jangled.

My reputation is intact. It is our little Christmas miracle.

If you want to read some of my other understudy work at finding things…here are a couple. Let’s Play Spot the Glasses; Dark Moments of a Light Chaser