On April 24, I stopped at a local farm-goods store with my daughter. After leaving there and arriving at our next destination, I realized my wallet was missing. Instantly mortified, we stopped dead in our tracks and searched the car. I retraced my steps to the first store where the staff helped me scour the premises. Everyone came up empty-handed and my meltdown began — trying to accept that my wallet was gone.
As the week went on, I straightened everything out — getting a new license, canceling credit cards and changing bank accounts. I was finally able to get some sleep, having learned a gravely horrible lesson in life.
The next day I came home to find a package in the mail. Oblivious as to what it could be, I opened it and there, inside, was my wallet.
Tears of joy went streaming down my cheeks, instantly renewing my faith in people. The wallet, cards — even the cash — were all untouched.
I scoured the package for a clue of someone to thank but was left with only a postal stamp from Minot.
I want to take this moment to thank my unknown angel out there. I have no words to describe the warmth I felt at that moment. That unknown person is truly a saint.
Rhyanna Larose, Auburn