The Wallet in the Mailbox

I lost my wallet on the subway on a Monday, with my license, credit cards, ninety dollars in cash and the only photo I have of my parents together. I canceled the cards, filed a report and spent two days miserable.

On Wednesday, it showed up in my mailbox. Everything was there, including the cash and the photo. There was a note folded inside, written on the back of a receipt:

"Found this under a seat. I saw the picture and figured it mattered more than the money. Hope your week gets better. — A stranger on the 4 train."

I've read that note probably a hundred times. I've no idea who wrote it. I don't know how they found my address, except from the license. I don't know if they're young or old.

I framed the note next to the photo of my parents. And now, whenever I find something somebody dropped, I go out of my way to return it. That stranger taught me how.