For most people, C is for Canvas. For me, C is for Catastrophe.
At my daughter’s wedding I had the assignment to get her presents out of the venue and back to her apartment. They had this
printed on a huge canvas for their guests to sign. It was beautiful. Full of well wishes from their myriad of friends and family.
We loaded up the presents, got the canvas in its box, and headed downstairs. In all the hubbub of pulling the car around and changing locations of where I was parking to pick up everything, the canvas disappeared. We didn’t discover it until the following morning and I was sick. Physically ill knowing that I had misplaced the one piece of memorabilia that can’t be replaced. We went back to the venue and met with the people who run the place, searched through the room where the wedding had been held, the lobby area where you first enter, Mark even climbed into the dumpster where he saw the remains of the wedding and dug through it just to make sure it hadn’t been tossed. Ann’s new in-laws were there helping us look. To no avail. It was just gone. I had the maid of honor send messages to the people who were there after we left on the off chance that someone noticed it leaning against a wall or something and picked it up for safe keeping, but no.
Although it’s not going to be the same, I ordered a new canvas so that as friends visit the newlyweds, they can re-sign it and fill the canvas with belated memories and well-wishes. In the mean-time, I just want this pit in my stomach to go away.
So…depending on your perspective, C is for Canvas. Or C is for Catastrophe. 😦