A question of balance

Many years ago I took my son and a young friend of his for a day out. As we walked into town, we came across a wallet lying on the path..

It obviously belonged to a child.

It contained no identification, only a five pound note and some small change.

My son's friend (whose father unfortunately was in prison) said – that's good, we can all have ice cream now.

I asked, what if it was your wallet that you had dropped?

We talked about the situation for awhile, and soon reached the town centre, so I suggested we take it to the police station.

The desk sergeant was very understanding, and wrote down the details and took my address with due seriousness.

What would you like me to do? If after a month the owner doesn't claim it, he asked. I can give the money to charity?

That would be fine, I said.

Sometimes I wonder what happened.

Most of our police stations have since closed, and police no longer deal with lost property.

This reminded me of my first marriage, I once drove home leaving the week's shopping beside the car, after putting baby in and stowing the push chair.

When I arrived home, my young wife made me a cup of coffee, afterwards I went to unload the shopping. Then I realised my error.

I drove back into town and called at the police station.

The desk Sergeant asked when the loss occurred, where, which supermarket I had shopped at, and what had I bought.

Then he reached down, and placed my shopping on the counter.

This is your lucky day, he said. Someone just handed this in.

It represented a sizeable chunk of my week's wages, and taught me a lesson.