If Found, Please Call Camerin

I’m on the lookout for telephone poles. And a really great staple gun.

Why? you’re likely wondering.

Well, I have a few notices I’d like to post. Thanks to my six-year-old nephew, Carson.

You see, a couple weeks ago I received the picture to the left in the mail. It’s the first letter I’ve ever received from Carson. Oh sure, I’ve received pictures he’s drawn. Of trains. Of stick-figure me (which I posted on my fridge for diet inspiration). Of more trains.

But this was the first letter.

I’m not sure why he started at the bottom and worked his way up. I like to think that he wanted to master the Asian style of writing first before tackling the more conventional American style all his classmates are working on. Give me a challenge, I imagine him thinking, his tongue sticking out in dogged concentration while he grasped his Crayola marker and made his magic.

And here’s what he wrote in his first epistle to me (in case you can’t read my sister’s helpful translation in the upper left-hand corner): Dear Aunt Cam, This is your work. I can’t wait until you come into town.

This is your work. I’m guessing that explains the building he’s drawn in the middle of the page.

When I chatted with my sister about the letter—when I was in town on that visit Carson and I were both anticipating—she explained that they’d told Carson I’d lost my job.

And suddenly it became clear: My sweet nephew wanted to help me find that misplaced job of mine. It’s lost. And here’s a picture to help me recognize it when I see it. How handy!

I feel like taking this sheet of notebook paper with me throughout the Chicagoland area—heck, across the country—and looking for this building. My missing place of employ. And perhaps posting it on telephone poles next to the missing dog fliers. Have you seen my job?

But for now this “prophetic” piece of paper is on my fridge. To remind me to keep a child-like faith that this building is out there somewhere.

And to help me look forward to the day when there is an office in which I can post this precious letter. And smile and say to my too-far-away nephew, “Yes, Carson. This is my work.”