I was that girl who was power-walking her way through Bellwoods Park today - the girl who was stumbling over her over-sized tote when it would somehow get caught between her legs, stumbling and power-walking. I did not stop until I reached that one bench I knew I sat my ass down on yesterday, the same bench that on this day I was running around wailing in a panic over as I realized a most terrible truth: "IT'S GONE. IT'S GOOOONEEE...!!!"
My JOURNAL is GONE!!!
I had sat on that same bench yesterday to enjoy the hot summer sun with a plan to whimsically wittle away words into my beloved journal just like other some-other-whimsical-hipster-saps on Queen St. West at summertime. Leather-bound journal on lap with pen in hand, that was the plan. And then I decided that I had nothing to say under that dreaded heat so I switched my attention to squint away at reading some financial self-help book I had also brought. After roasting in the sun awhile, I decided to crawl under the shade to join my friend while we chatted about quarter-life crises and conjuring up 5-year plans. A search for beer and dessert followed suit and we left the park -- and inadvertently MY JOURNAL ON THAT BENCH.
I don't know how I could have FORGOTTEN it. A combination of heat + writer's block + need for dessert could have been it - regardless, I don't care. What I care about is finding whoever decided to pick up a stranger's journal in the middle of a park. (A friend hypothesized that it was likely the garbage man, but I concluded the guess to be ridiculous once I pointed out the bag of dog poop that still lay by the bench cooked solid in the sun. Or maybe garbage-man does not pick up after dog poop bags -- but I digress.)
THE POINT OF ALL THIS IS -- right now, there is someone out there, someone reading MY JOURNAL, and that someone must be getting a damn good laugh.
Whereas I, I remain here cringing at all that he or she could have read.
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