The Coin

 

My last meal eating out in 2024 was at one of my favorite restaurants, Bento-Ya OMI, known affectionately as simply OMI. It is a small Japanese restaurant in Plaza Baratillo, one of my favorite plazas in Guanajuato, Mexico, where I live. My favorite meal there is Tofu-do. Actually, it is the only thing I get there since it is their only vegan option. But that’s okay, I love it. So I was having my favorite meal at one of my favorite restaurants in my favorite plaza in my favorite city. What better way to end 2024? And, in retrospect, it makes sense that if the Universe was going to give me a parting nudge to end 2024, OMI is where it would do it.

Often, I go to OMI to meet a friend for lunch, but this time I was alone. Since I was alone, I sat at a small table. OMI has nice decor. The tables are dark wood, and many Japanese paintings are on the wall. Like most restaurants in Mexico, there is never a rush at OMI. Food comes ahorita, which loosely translates to who knows when. So I came prepared. I brought my earbuds and planned to go through a lesson or two (or maybe five) on Duolingo while waiting for my food. I was not disappointed.

Eventually, the food arrived, and I had a great meal, as usual. The fried tofu balls were served on a salad of greens and carrots, and the whole thing was served on a bowl of rice. To the side came a dipping bowl of spicy soy sauce, which I have often tried and failed to duplicate.

At the end of the meal, I asked for the cuenta and calculated how much tip I should leave. Thirty pesos would cover it. Ten pesos were left over from the bills, so I needed to add twenty more. I counted four five-peso coins from my pocket and added them to the bills.

I sat there for a few more minutes, checking my email, and then prepared to leave. I looked at the money to double-check that I had left enough tip. I recounted the five peso coins. But there were not four, as I had just carefully counted, there were only three. That couldn’t be. I remembered counting out four coins. What happened to the fourth coin? Nobody could have taken it. I was sitting there the whole time, and besides, who would take a 5 peso coin and leave 100 peso bills?

I checked every square inch of the table, looking for the missing coin. I picked up every item on the table to see if the coin had somehow slipped underneath. I looked and looked again. It was a small table. There weren’t many places for a five peso coin to hide. But eventually, I had to admit defeat. I must have miscounted. There was no other explanation. I pulled out another five-peso coin and put it on the pile. I counted again. Yes, no mistake; now there were four coins on the table.

I left the restaurant and walked down Calle Benito Juarez to the English Language Library for a poetry reading. I got about five blocks when I realized I didn’t have my earbud case. I remembered putting my earbuds in the case and the case on the table. I had left them at OMI! I wasn’t too worried. I was a regular customer and was reasonably sure the waitress would find them and hold them for me. I turned around and headed back.           

I hardly entered the door when the waitress approached me and handed me my earbud case, with the earbuds happily snuggled inside. I thanked her and started heading back to Calle Benito Jaurez. And then it struck me.

I had looked at every square inch of that small brown table, looking for the missing coin. My earbud case is bright white. It stands out like a beacon on a dark brown table. I had scoured the table yet had never seen that dazzlingly white earbud case. It wasn’t that I was distracted; I was intently searching. But my brain was so focused on looking for the one trivial thing that was not there that it literally couldn’t see the one crucial thing that was. 

I have spent many hours pondering this event. I realize how strange and unreliable my powers of perception are and how easily they can be duped. I can get so focused on trivial things that don’t exist that I cannot see the important things that are real and sitting right in front of me.

So, that was the message my OMI lunch left me with, along with its suggestions for the coming year. Like most people, I know how to open my eyes. I even know how to look. Let 2025 be the year I learn to see.