"Why are you in such a hurry," my husband asked.
"My mom, remember, I have to pick her up at the airport. Why aren't you dressed?"
"Do I need to go?"
"Well, I would prefer that both of us greet her and help with her bags."
"What are you doing over there," he said noticing that I was starting to pull out drawers from the desk and search the top of it.
"I can't find my keys and our house key is on that ring too."
"You'd better find them, it cost over a hundred dollars to replace them."
"Well then give me yours."
"I'll go, you are right, there will be a lot of luggage knowing your mother."
We made our way to the garage. My husband chose to drive while I still searched the glove box and the divider for my keys.
As the car backed out of the garage, I yelled, "Stop the car!"
"What is it? You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"See, on the concrete," I said pointing downward.
I opened the car door and ran into the garage to see my keys laying on the pavement.
Swinging them in the air around my finger with a great big smile to let my husband know we won't have to buy a new set.