madeofglass.com

a collection of reflections by people i have known

by tripp

Last night I got coffee with a friend down at Dana Street in Mountain View. And as we walked around, there were a couple of books lying out on the sidewalk. And one of them? “Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

And inside? An inscription reading: “9th Birthday Present, January 1992, Amber [last name] If found call [telephone number]”

Now, there is no area code on the number. It was 17 years ago, which would make Amber 26 now. And looking on Facebook, there are 5 potential Ambers, none of them are in California, one isn’t even in the country.

So I don’t think there is much I can do — I suppose I could send FB messages to these people, asking if I have their copy of “Where the Sidewalk Ends.” It seems a little weird.

At the same time, this is such a…critical book to childhood, I can’t imagine why someone’s copy was lying on the sidewalk at 10pm on a Tuesday night.

Thoughts? What should I do?

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