Finding the Past

This was a weekend of losing and finding… Years ago, you, my precious blogging community, may remember I was going through a time where I lost my contacts and my eye glasses in one week. This was at a time when I wasn’t wearing daily contacts so I had to go buy entirely new ones. And new prescription glasses are not cheap either. Couple to that the fact that I started to believe it was a sign from my deceased grandmother that she was taking my sight from me – making me stop and look at things in my life and try to figure out what she thought was so wrong. I needed to open my eyes.

So now, one of those mysteries has been solved. I was outside, walking Murph and just looked down. Just down. Didn’t dig around, didn’t look through any grass, obstacles of any kind. And there they were – my old disintegrated half surviving pair of glasses. I had to smile at that. In all the places I looked, I don’t remember really combing the font lawn. And now, years later, there they were – plain as day. Funny how that worked out.

I also recently “lost” my prized Puma weekender bag. This bag was a big purchase, well, at the time, it was a big deal. I didn’t have any $ to spend on such things, but when I saw it inside the pages of my Delia’s catalog, I realized: I needed this bag in order to go on with my life. So I called and ordered this (I believe it was before the invention of the internet, just to give you an idea). And this bag has been to Arizona, Wyoming, Alaska, and every damn wkd trip I’ve ever been on. It’s been back and forth from my apt I used to share with M to my mom’s at least a hundred times, the number of times we broke up and got back together and my overnight clothes shuffled from one place to the next until we both cooled down and realized that, despite it all, we loved each other and were committed to making it work.

So I thought I had lost this bag in the move and progressively started to go insane because I still LOVE this bag like a small child. I combed the entire house back in January when we went on a ski trip and I couldn’t find it and again when we took off to New Haven so I could see JK. Both times, I just assumed the bag would turn up so I used a different bag in its place. And then, for no particular reason, I went into straight up panic mode because I need this bag and I decided that come hell or high water I was going to find that damn thing. And come to find out, M did finally find it, after what felt like hours of me yelling from the attic and losing at least 5lbs in sweat, tears, and desperation. He found it. Underneath another bag in my sister’s closet. Funny how it would end up there?

Sigh of relief.

Then in the process of looking for that I found that damn bracelet M bought me when he went to Florida. You know the one: the ugliest damn, yet inexplicably expensive bracelet with the silver and opal/turquoise/aquamarine gems?? I don’t even know what’s going on with that thing, but nevertheless, during one of our more heinous fights, I threw the damn thing and it landed… far, far underneath our old stove. And unless you know how to move a stove, it was stuck there. Come to find out, after we had made up, M did move the stove and retrieve it. But after that point, I kinda lost track of it. Well come to find out it was hidden in a measuring cup inside one of my packed up boxes from the apt. Ahhh, yes. It’s back. I have to wear it, I guess. When I told M I found it! He kind of looked at me with suspicious and asked, What do you mean you found it? You lost it???

Um, actually. No. Just kidding. Just didn’t know where it was for a minute here, but look – I have it. And that’s what matters… Moving on.

But now what’s missing is my African turquoise bracelet that I made myself with the leftover beads I had never sold. And I love this thing… maybe it will turn up. Hopefully sooner rather than later and hopefully not outside on the front lawn where apparently things as strong as glass and plastic disintegrate.

I also lost my textbook for the class I’m taking. The damn book just up and vanished in the middle of the night on Saturday. When I went to read it, yes, I know, I was really about to read it, it was gone. And I have traced my steps and now firmly believe that book ended up at the recycling center at the town dump this wkd. Again, inexplicably.

But maybe someone is trying again to send a message to me: this is the wrong class, the wrong degree. That perhaps I need to go to Africa to find myself…

Eh.

Actually, I’d settle for somewhere closer. Somewhere like Annapolis where my sister lives or Austin, where my BFF spends her time, cooing at Muffy and saving patient’s lives, one day at a time.