The Bermuda Triangle is an unexplained phenomenon that has intrigued and alarmed people since the HMS Atalanta disappeared after sailing from the Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda, bound for England on Jan. 31, 1880. Her entire crew vanished along with the ship, which was presumed to have sunk during a strong storm, even though no trace of her was ever found.
This intriguing spot is located in the western part of the Atlantic ocean, bordered by Miami, San Juan, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda. It is alleged that a number of ships and aircraft have disappeared in this area. Although there seems to be logical explanations offered by those who have researched the incidents, many pilots and sea farers avoid the spot at all costs.
Lesser known, but equally as mysterious as the legendary Bermuda Triangle is our home located smack dab in the middle of a modern day development. Items seem to vanish into thin air right beneath our noses. I can put a piece of important correspondence in a certain location, only to return a short time later and find no trace of it.
Cordless and cell phones disappear from plain sight on a daily basis. Pens, pencils, and grocery lists leave the premises unassisted, never to be seen again. Like the ships and airplanes that have vanished near the Bermuda Triangle, our personal belongings seem to take on a life of their own and go search for a perfect hiding place somewhere within the confines of our house.
The latest runaway was my set of vehicle keys. Separate from my house keys, I keep them in a certain zippered compartment of my overstuffed handbag, which could easily sustain me for several weeks in any emergency situation.
Last week, just after we arrived home from a doctor’s appointment, I went back outside to get a shopping bag from the car. Not wanting to carry my entire purse, I grabbed it and opened my key spot. It was empty.
I have been known to put keys, wallet, credit card, and various other necessities in my coat pockets when my hands are full. I retrieved my coat only to discover empty pockets, except for some loose change and a few tissues.
Assuming that I had just dropped them into my purse, I dumped the contents out on the bed. Akin to moving out of a house, this was no small feat, so it took me a while to sort through everything, weed out the trash, and replace it all.
Noticing my mild state of panic, my helpful husband asked the logical question:
“Did you lose something?”
Resisting the urge to make a snappy comeback, I reluctantly acknowledged that my keys had been abducted by aliens and whisked away in their spaceship.
Next predictable inquiry:
“Where did you leave them?”
If I knew the answer to that, I would not be in this situation.
I “borrowed” his set of keys and proceeded to do a thorough search of the entire vehicle. I looked under the seats, between the seat cushions, in the glove compartment, and under the floor mats to no avail. I retraced my steps from the car into the house, sifting through accumulated leaves near the back door enroute to the kitchen. I looked in the washing machine, dryer, dishwasher, and under the kitchen table. I emptied the recycle bin with no luck as my feelings of hopelessness mounted.
Time to call in the cavalry to come to the rescue, so I prayed fervently to my beloved St. Anthony and promised him my eternal gratitude and admiration if he could just help me one more time. I could sense him rolling his eyes as he listened to the pleas from his number one client, but he guided me through the search and rescue process as he had done on so many previous occasions.
Just as I donned rubber gloves to sift through the kitchen garbage can, I got a notion to move the car and look around where I had parked it beneath our carport. As I backed up, I caught a glimmer of something shiny and spotted the missing keys. I had apparently dropped them as I exited the car and kicked them beneath the vehicle. St. Anthony came through again.
I triumphantly entered the house, dangling the keys to show my husband. As I reached for my phone to relate the tale to my friend, I discovered my phone had grown legs and ran away. Note to self: never go anywhere near the Bermuda Triangle.
Copyright © 2023 Mary Margaret Lambert
