Real life lessons keep on unfolding themselves.

He was standing just a few feet from the bottom of the steps in the sand on the beach, looking like a surrealistic commentary on life. He resembled a rather dignified European waiter holding in his left hand what appeared to be a platter of pastries stacked almost a foot high and a very large electric box fan in the other. His rather worn clothes and backpack were a clue to his domestic state.

I was walking along the surf as part of my usual routine. There are many unusual people that pass through this island, and it is not uncommon to see a soul that has lost their grasp on what most consider normal. And so when I returned to those same steps where the CHD (crazy homeless dude) had been standing, I was surprised, but not entirely shocked that the CHD had taken my flipflips, which I had left neatly at the bottom of the steps as I had intended to walk in the water.

I was slightly annoyed that I had been "robbed" of the chance to blow those old flipflops out, but was able to laugh about it and posted a little note on fb saying:
 
Today's life lesson: If you don't want the crazy homeless dude with a tray of donuts stacked a foot high in one hand and an electric 36 inch window fan in the other to steal your flipflops, then dont leave them by the steps while you walk in the surf!

I spent several hours off & on that day looking for the new flipflops my wife had given me and finally when I thought all was lost, discovered where they had been hidden. The night came to it's usual end and I awoke to another Monday.
With my new flipflops on, I walked down the seawall, as is my custom. Down the steps, as is my custom.
And what greeted me at the bottom of those steps?

My old flipflops.

 I laughed a deep belly laugh when I saw them, returned to me as it were.

I had not really been offended by his trespass. For whatever reasons something has broken him. He needed my flipflops that day and had I returned to them in time, he might have even asked me if he could borrow them to get to his destination. Instead, he "borrowed" them without asking.

He may have felt remorse, or not. But he returned them to the place he took them from with just a bit more wear on them. He may have been watching to see that I got them, or he may have left them in the early morning half-light and scurried away.

Whatever the case, I am reminded that things are not always as they appear.

REB