Where Are You?

Mary Gibson planted both hands on her hips and glared down at the turtle. “You,” she said, “are wasting my time.” The mother of six looked at her youngest son’s pet turtle - or maybe it was a tortoise - she could never remember. It wasn’t one of those cute little turtles though. It had to weigh forty or fifty pounds and she couldn’t lift it out of the sandbox.

That was a problem, since she suspected that her keys were lying underneath it. Running a hand through frazzled blonde hair, she sighed and knocked on the turtle’s shell. “Come on, Pokey, move.”

Mary tried pushing, pulling and even digging. Nothing worked. Pokey wouldn’t move. Finally it occurred to her to try tempting the turtle with a treat of some kind. She went back inside and opening the refrigerator, rummaged in the vegetable bin for a moment. Suddenly she grinned as she pulled her hand from the bin, the missing keys dangling from her fingers.

Mary set the keys on the kitchen counter and rummaged around in the vegetable bin again. She pulled out a few carrots, opened a drawer and got a knife out. A couple of cuts whittled the carrots down to a reasonable size and she took them out to the turtle.

She was on the way back into the house when a sudden, bright flash of light startled her and made her eyes water. Mary blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes until she could see without spots. Green eyes looked up at the cloudless sky and then she shrugged and went back inside.

A quick look at the clock told Mary she was now running a little late. She went to the bottom of the stairs and listened for a moment. No noise. That meant the kids were dawdling.

“John, Timothy, Mary Beth, Anthony, Sally, Mark! Get your butts down here in less than five minutes or it’ll be extra chores this weekend!”

Mary remained at the bottom of the stairs for another minute, listening. Doors slammed, feet ran down the hallway, water ran. She nodded. Now the children were moving and hopefully they wouldn’t end up running too much later than they already were.

Mary returned to the kitchen, making sure that each of the six different reusable lunch bags had the appropriate lunch items in them. That done, she opened the freezer, surveyed the contents and pulled out a lean cuisine. Setting it on the counter, she looked at the counter, remembering for once that she’d set her keys there. She had, hadn’t she?

No keyes anywhere on the counter. Mary bent down and scanned the floor and under the appliances. Still no keys. She stood up with a sigh, just as the kids came trampling down the stairs in a noisy herd. Mary Beth looked at her and started giggling. “You lost them again, didn’t you, Mom?”

Mary shot her oldest daughter a look of exasperation, before nodding. As soon as they had the confirmation, asll six of her children spread out and started looking in every niche and corner. She was forever losing her keys and the kids knew the drill. The sooner the keys were found, the less scatter brained and frazzled their mother would be.

Only Mary Beth stayed nearby, a grin on her young face. “Okay Mom, think for a sec. Where is the last place you remember having them?”

Mary blushed. “I found them in the vegetable bin in the fridge and set them on the counte. Then I took some carrots out to Pokey. When I came back inside, the keys were gone.”

Are you sure you actually took them out of the vegetable bin, Mom?”

Mary nodded but opened the refrigerator anyway. Embarrassingly enough, she had - on more than one occasion - thought she’d moved her keys, only to find them in their original location later. She knew she was scatter brained, but it seemed odd that she could be so certain of the having done something only to discover that she hadn’t actually done it.

Mary looked at all the shelves of the fridge first - if she had pulled the keys out of the vegetable bin, it was possible she’d set them down on one of the shelves instead of on the counter.

No luck.

She sighed and opened the vegetable bin, green eyes hesitating before she looked inside it. Wilting lettuce, a couple of tomatoes, and unopened package of carrots. . . unopened package? Hadn’t she opened that package to give a few carrots to Pokey? She lifted the carrots, and there, sitting on the bottom of the bin, were her keys.

Mary grabbed the keys and slowly closed the vegetable bin and then the refrigerator. As she turned around to look at Mary Beth, she shook her head. Her daughter only grinned and yelled to her siblings. “Found ‘em!”

The rest of the children piled back into the kitchen, turning it into a scene of momentary chaos as each grabbed their lunch bags and headed out to the SUV.

Mary remained for a moment after the last child left. She looked around the kitchen, keys in her hand. There was something weird about this, but she didn’t know what. After a moment, the sound of car doors slamming got her attention and Mary Gibson, mother of six, grabbed her frozen, diet lunch from the counter and left the house, locking the door behind her.