Faith recovered in the mail

Every couple of months, ever since I moved to Challis Damansara, my mother gives me mail that is still being sent to the Subang Jaya house and passed on by the new residents. I usually put them aside because these are newsletters from department stores like Parkson and Isetan, who appear to have ignored my request to stop sending them, and catalogs from brands like Chanel and Dior, who apparently don’t give you an option at all of wanting to receive such mail or not.

So the last time my mother gave me a stack of mail from the old house, back in January, I left them on one of the shelves of my dressing table, and forgot about them — until last night, when I finally decided to look through them and get rid of what I didn’t need. It was then that I came across one envelope addressed to me in handwriting, which I found odd because nobody bothers to actually write anything these days. So out of curiosity, I ripped the envelope open, and out fell these:

Yes, these are the contents of the wallet I lost when I got robbed back in December. Everything was there — my ID, driver’s license, New York State license, membership cards, and even my FJ Benjamin vouchers (which, obviously, have since expired) — except my credit and debit cards, which didn’t matter because I had canceled them immediately after the robbery. And after looking at them for maybe almost a full minute, I burst into tears and called my mother.

She said it was likely that the thieves had thrown away my wallet after taking the cash — not realizing that the wallet was worth at least 20 times the cash — and a passerby had found the wallet. “It was probably a Bangsar person who found it; they might be the more decent ones. It’s not safe to send credit cards in the mail, and it’s more tedious to send a whole wallet.” That was my mother giving everybody the benefit of the doubt; I just thought whoever found my wallet had decided to keep it, but felt guilty enough to send the contents to the only address they could find in it.

Nevertheless, regardless of who found my wallet and how the cards came back to me, it restored a little smidgen of my faith in humankind. Scant and halfhearted though these little acts of kindness may be, it’s refreshing to know that they are not of a bygone era, and that the world has not entirely lost what little goodness it has left.

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