4 years ago, I bought a pair of hiking boots for a walking trail through Nyalaland in the northern Kruger Park. After I got back, they went missing. I searched high and low for them. Every trip I needed to pack for, I’d scratch in the back of my cupboard and every time, I’d emerge disappointed.
And then, 3 weeks ago, while hunting for a box of Beacon marshmallow eggs in a spare room cupboard in my parents’ house, what should I find but my missing boots?
I hadn’t looked for them for years. They were the last thing on my mind. And suddenly, there they were.
It’s tempting, on a Sunday night, to become philosophical. Why is it so easy to lose things? Why is it that when we stop looking for something, there it is?
And how do we learn to let go, so that those things which we seek may more easily find us?