I lose things. Frequently.
They’re usually not worth much. One half of my favorite pair of gloves, green striped, $3 on sale. Several polycarbonate water bottles. The headphones to my iPod. Countless socks. Things I don’t realize are gone until I need them, and even though I usually recall when and where I lost track of them, it’s too usually too late to retrieve them. Very often they’re small articles that, on their own, aren’t even worth thinking about, until I realize I need them to make something else work.
There are other things I’ve lost that are worth far more, and still I lose them the same way one loses most things. Your mind is elsewhere, you think you have all your effects, and then when you go looking for them again, they’re nowhere to be found. You can check the lost and found, you can retrace your steps, but time has passed and taken whatever it is with it on its way out the door.
I’ve compiled a list in my head of the things I’ve misplaced, things that slipped away from me while my mind was distracted. Small things that maybe don’t amount to much on their own, but together their absence leaves a giant hole, a huge gaping chink in my armor, leaving my chest naked and exposed. They’re all things I didn’t know were missing until one day I looked for them, retraced my steps, and couldn’t remember the last place I saw them. I lie awake for hours at night, thinking back, and still for the life of me can’t remember where I last had them. And there is no lost and found where I can file my claim.
