Last night, I was reminded of my first part-time job in America. It was 1981, and I had just moved to San Diego eight months earlier. I used a stencil on special blue worksheets with  a hand roller to apply black ink-making copies for the Chinese class I taught every Saturday morning.

I woke up early this one Saturday to prepare my teaching materials. The school was rented out  of a Chinese church on 47th and Euclid.

Twenty minutes passed after the church bell chimed at the top of the hour, but nobody could be seen. I started to panic, classes were supposed to continue every Saturday through June. I must have missed an announcement at the last meeting - perhaps the principal had said something aloud while I was in that room printing extra materials. I didn’t realize how important Easter      is in the Western culture.

If this had happened yesterday, I’m sure I would have received a text, an email, or at least a phone call. I would have known what Easter means. But that day, the sun was out, and it was    so beautiful. I decided, why not do my calculus homework out on rock? It felt like a rare chance to enjoy the weather.

I left my woven straw carrying bag on the ground and began to study. At the time, I was taking a minimum of 12 units and always felt behind on assignments - barely keeping up, always out of breath. I had almost forgotten what leisure time felt like. But there, under the sun, I felt my mind clear. I was solving problems faster than usual. Maybe the fresh air and light made me sharper. I looked up and felt the breeze in my hair. Spring had arrived.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow flash. A floater? I wondered if I had strained my eyes studying too hard the night before. I rubbed them, thinking it was just the brightness. But when I turned my head, I saw a young man sprinting away from the school toward Euclid Avenue. My heart sank.

Instinctively, I reached for my bag. It was gone.

I looked around frantically. My bag, one I had planned to use for five summers - had vanished. I realized the young man had stolen it. Inside were all my ID’s, my class materials, and the 12 dollars I had for groceries that week. I could easily reprint the teaching handouts. But without my driver’s license, I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t even withdraw money from the bank without identification. What was I going to do?

At that moment, I wondered - did I forget the world, or did the world forget me?

Later, the police notified me that someone had found my wallet on a small pathway along the hillside. At least I didn’t have to replace all my IDs. That night, I told myself it could have been worse - what if the thief had used a weapon or hurt me?

In this so-called land of opportunity, a Chinese idiom came to mind: “A loss is not always a bad thing - it may be a blessing in disguise.” I thought to take a step back, and the world became wider. I will never forget that day. And I still ask myself: In that moment, did I forget the world, or did the world forget me?

Barbara Hu is a Chinese-born American and San Diegan. In 2020, she joined the San Diego College of Continuing Education's Emeritus Writers’ Workshop to enhance her literary skills and continue her lifelong learning journey.