The Lost Purse

I lived in a city in South Dakota of about eighty thousand people, but I shopped in a relatively small grocery store not far from my house every Friday morning.
My baby girl, Melanie, was about sixteen months old and was not always happy with being in the grocery cart. Since I was a new mom I always took a diaper bag with me as well as my purse. The diaper bag was black patent leather and so was my purse. Melanie wanted out of the cart, the diaper bag took her place etc. etc. The more disagreeable my child became, the more frustrated I became and my thoughts were to get out of that store and go home as soon as I could. In those days I bought the whole week’s groceries in one trip. My saving grace was that all the employees knew me and smiled when they saw me take my baby in and out of the cart. I was still embarrassed by her behavior and my evil thoughts. When I finally had finished shopping, I proceeded to the checkout counter. Low and behold I couldn’t find my purse. The manager called me by name and said that he would have the front and back door locked and all the staff would be alerted to look for my purse. I described it for him, It was black patent leather and I had fifty dollars in it. That was a lot of money in those days. The manager said, “Well we will continue to look for it, Mrs. Grafing. Does it look anything like the purse you have over your shoulder?” I wanted the floor to open up and swallow both Melanie and me up never to be seen again. I did not see the humor in that shopping trip for quite some time.