Last week B and I took a little vacation on Cape Cod. We packed B's minivan to the gills with pretty much everything we own, including my Canon digital camera. As soon as we arrived at our rental -- a small house, but right on the bay -- I started taking lots of pictures, including many shots of the incredible view we had out our kitchen and living room windows, overlooking Buzzard's Bay, with the Bourne Bridge way off in the distance.
I took pictures of the sunset. I took pictures of the fishing boats that came by in the morning, and the big container ships that passed by out in the channel. I photographed the seagulls that perched on our rocks. I took pictures of our friends who retired to the Cape a few years ago. And I took pictures of Falmouth, Hyannis, Brewster, Eastham. All beautiful pictures.
And then, yesterday, when we went to pack up the car, I could not find my camera. I remembered putting it in the car the day before. It was in the back seat, I know. But I looked all over the back seat, under the front seat, all around the back of the car, even under the car in the driveway in case it fell out.
I called the lost-and-found at the Falmouth Visitors Center, and I phoned the police. There was no sign of any camera that had been turned in. The police officer on the phone was very nice. She took my number, in case someone came in with a camera. She suggested I try the local pawn shop. Really? I said. Oh, sure, she replied. I've seen it all.
I didn't go in to the pawn shop. That seemed ridiculous. And honestly, I don't know why I'm revealing all this. It seems unlikely, but the camera must have fallen out of the car, somehow, maybe when I was grabbing my jacket or tossing in that souvenir I bought. I feel like a complete lame brain. But, come on, you've probably left something behind on vacation, at some point, haven't you?
Meanwhile, these two pictures of Cape Cod are from a previous visit . . . because, obviously, I don't have any pictures to show from this trip.