So lately I’ve become a loser, as in one who loses things.
I never use to lose things, 1. because I am super careful with my things and 2. because it was easy to keep track of such few treasures but now… I’ve adapted this carefulness since I was a small child. I once lost a family of three bears and cried so much my poor mom took me back outside where we backtracked through all the stores we had been to that day and I won the hearts of many a store owner who promised to keep an eye out for three bears.
I had a favorite book, a gift from my sister called the Lost Playground. I loved this book because the main character, a homemade stuffed animal, had a bizarre long name, Theodore something something which I can’t quite recall and also because I could relate to his owner’s loss. The idea of a lost playground where lost items and toys lived in a happy limbo between worlds was scary to me. I wanted to cry, to cry the way Owl at Home cried in order to make his “teardrop tea.”
Anyhow, lately I’ve lost single earring after single earring, and this morning I couldn’t find the jeans I wanted to wear. Somehow my house has become a place where things just strangely disappear. I just don’t understand it, because I’m very neat and always return things to the same place. My jewelry boxes and walk-in closet are meticulous.
I just find this so odd and upsetting. I’ve begun losing things that have so much sentimental value, a diamond stud earring from the pair my boyfriend bought me for Xmas a couple of years back, the $200 bracelet he bought me for my birthday, one cute cheapy companion earring to about 3 pairs of earrings now maybe even 4.
I cried for hours over the bracelet, and I’m still in denial over the diamond earring, I keep thinking, “No, it must be somewhere…”
I’m not sure if some one is playing tricks on me, since my BF’s old Bulova also mysteriously disappeared or if maybe I’m just getting careless.
Anyhow, lost things just break my heart, they had a home, you know?