Lost is found

A story so unbelievable I must share it:


Aaron and I got married this past July. The night before our wedding, we had a great party--Texas-themed, of course--at the Mill in Iowa City. We drank, we danced, we hollered, we drank, we played practical jokes, and we drank some more. At the end of the night, my parents caught a cab back to the Alexis Park Inn to get some rest and enjoy the oddly wonderful paintings of airplanes that adorned the walls of their room.

Morning comes, and my mom discovers that her camera is missing. Her prized possession, the inspiration for much of her work as a printmaker, her "little child," as she calls it. We search everywhere, we hound Old Capital Cab, we investigate every nook and cranny, but it's gone, and all of the pictures from the previous night's festivites with it. We give it up for lost, and my mom, devasted, throws away her battery charger, her cables, all the vestiges of what once was, and returns home to California.

Flash forward to January--six months later. My mom receives a call from a guy named Dan, a driver for Old Capital Cab in Iowa City. He found a camera wedged in the seat of his van, and could it be hers? Two days later, Dan dropped it off to me, party pictures and all, having survived the worst of the Iowa summer and most of the winter. This shot is one of my favorites.