I lost my new favourite purple hat and a piece of my luggage on the way to Vermont. I’m feeling a little too sad about the loss of the hat (the piece of luggage is more guilt because it isn’t my luggage but my partner’s.)
I keep visualizing that the hat needed to go on its own journey. Possible scenarios include:
Found by one of the security guards at customs who likes purple knitted hats and then after a few weeks is allowed to take it home.
A twenty-something was on their way to Vermont or somewhere else cold, and had forgotten their hat and thought that maybe this was the way of the universe balancing itself.
I’ll never know. Things just disappear. And, eventually, they are forgotten.
Can you remember when you thought that something was really important that no longer seems to have a place in your life anymore? Or, that once upon a time, you reacted in a particular way because you’ve always done that?
And, then, one day, it stopped.
You no longer cared about that thing. You no longer reacted in the same way.
Still, the loss is there isn’t it?
I feel like there is more than my hat that was lost yesterday. Part of me wishes to know where it went and what its next story is.
And the other part knows that I no longer need it as there is this other, red hat, in my suitcase that will do just fine. Perhaps it will keep me warmer?