The Passport I Couldn't See

The Passport I Couldn't See by Allan N Schwartz

I opened the drawer, then opened it twice,
 My hands were trembling, my thoughts weren’t nice.
 Where was the passport I swore I had placed?
 My mind ran in circles, my heart full of haste.

I searched through the folders, the shelves, and the bed,
 With worry and panic alive in my head.
 The harder I looked, the more it would hide,
 Like stress had built shadows I couldn't see inside.

Then came my daughter, so steady, so clear,
 With laughter and love and her voice drawing near.
 She opened that drawer with the gentlest touch,
 And there was the passport, it wasn’t so much.

But what she returned was more than a thing,
 She quieted the chaos that panic can bring.
 Sometimes the fog is too heavy to see,
 And it takes someone kind to help us just be.

Not long ago, I was packing to move out of the condominium where I had lived for the last twelve years. It was a big change. I had decided to leave that familiar place to move into an independent living residence, where I now live.

The process of selling my condo, signing endless documents, and sorting through a lifetime of belongings brought an overwhelming wave of stress. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I had trouble sleeping and couldn’t stop worrying.

Then it happened.

I needed my passport. I remembered placing it in a specific drawer, the one where I always kept it. I opened the drawer. Nothing. I opened it again. Still nothing. I took everything out and spread it on the bed. It wasn’t there.

Panic rose in my chest.

I tried to calm myself down and think logically. I checked another drawer. And another. And another. I looked in folders, boxes, bags, under the bed. Nowhere. The more I looked, the more flustered I became.

In that moment, I felt like a child again. Helpless. Frightened. Ashamed that I couldn’t remember something so simple.

Later that day, my daughter came over to help me with the packing. I told her what had happened and how I had looked everywhere.

She smiled gently and said, “Let me take a look.”

She walked straight to the drawer I had searched a dozen times and, within seconds, pulled out the passport.

“Dad, it’s right here,” she said, laughing kindly.

I couldn’t believe it. The very place I had looked so many times—how had I missed it?

Because I was overwhelmed. Because my brain, like any brain under pressure, was not working at full capacity.

This experience taught me something very important, something I knew as a psychologist but had just experienced personally in a new way.

Stress affects our minds.

When we are anxious or under emotional strain, our thinking becomes cloudy. We can’t concentrate. We miss things that are right in front of us. We make simple mistakes and then punish ourselves for them.

And yet, when someone we love steps in with calm and kindness, it can bring us back to ourselves.

That’s what my daughter did.

She found the passport. But more than that, she helped me feel safe again.

In the middle of the storm, she was my still point.

So if you ever find yourself panicking because you’ve lost something—or feel lost yourself—please be gentle with your mind. Stress scrambles our ability to see clearly. It’s not weakness. It’s human.

And if someone you love is in the middle of their own search, be the one who smiles and says, “Let me take a look.”

You might not only find what’s missing.

You might also help bring them back to themselves.