Some Things Just Aren't Supposed to get Lost

Cleaning my desk, I found the golden hoop earring that had been missing for some time. In my head, I played a game of match, trying to remember where I had last seen the other pair. Eventually the earrings were reunited in the wooden jewelry box on my dresser that stores my beads.

When I was younger, I was prone to losing earrings. Whenever I discovered that one of my ears were empty, I would sigh with hopelessness expecting never to find the earring again. Yet they would always turn up. Someone would spot it peering down the drainage hole in the shower, or on the rug the day before it was vacuumed.

The day after I had had "one of those days", Boy came over with a little gold box. He had been walking through a little street in the city when he had spotted these, he told me, and couldn't stop himself from buying them for me. Inside were a pair of delicate gold earrings that were to become (and still are) my favourite pair.

I nearly lost them. Twice. Once we went shopping and I walked into a fitting room with two earrings, and left with one. I didn't realise until a while after, at which point I was in tears. Boy calmly suggested that we go back and check in the fitting room. Following him with tears in my ears, I insisted that it was hopeless and the earring had been lost forever, but lo and behold, it lay untouched on the floor of the fitting room.

"Well that was lucky!" The girl at the counter told me.

Another day it flicked out of my finger and down the drainage pipe in the bathroom sink. I was overcome with panic when I squinted to look down the pipe and could not see it, convinced that it was gone forever. Boy disassembled the pipe and out plopped my beloved (wet) earring.

When I think back, I think that most of the earrings that I thought I had lost had always been found.

Except for the kitten.

I fell in love with the little gold kittens at a jewelry shop while in a mall with my mum, and she bought them for me. They were great, I loved wearing them, they made me feel happy. And they were so little, and shiny and gold. And they were kittens.

I wore them every day for almost a year, without problems. Then there was The Party, and Mike nibbling on my ear and sex in three different rooms in the house. The morning after, I woke up with only one kitten. I searched the entire house in vain. Under beds and couches, shaking out sheets and pillows, repeatedly scanning every corner of the carpet on my knees.

But it was nowhere to be found.

I kept the remaining pair for a while, in the hope that one day I might find the other. I never did, and eventually the other disappeared as well. By then, it didn't matter.

I suppose there are some things that are best lost.

previous - next; thanks, diaryland.