I heard the barely audible sound somewhere behind me as I juggled my purse, the packages and one year old Sadie my arms. I needed to get to the car to unload. I could tell that it was definitely time for a diaper change and I couldn’t take care of it in the middle of the parking lot.
I chided myself for not parking closer to the mall. It would have made it so much easier on me and on Sadie. Poor Sadie, with that odor as strong as a barn full of animals. Now she was getting fussy about it and her whimpering was becoming an all out wail as she bucked in my arms.
At the car, I set my purse on the roof, the packages on the ground and transferred Sadie back and forth between my left arm and my right arm as I patted down my pockets for the keys starting with my jeans then moving to my jacket without locating them. I hoisted Sadie again to the other side as I grabbed my purse from the roof and began rummaging through the wads of tissue, reams of old receipts, a dozen ink pens and a long lost whistle that had been misplaced more than a year ago.
I couldn’t find the keys anywhere, then, I remembered a sound. That Sound, the one that didn’t mean anything as I dodged the cars and coped with the baby.
Ker thump—a simple sound of one car key and a house key on a purple lanyard attached to a picture of the family dog Buster…as it slipped through the grate on the drain in the parking lot and dropped into the inky water below.