Sunday August 21st, 2011

The exercise:

Do what you will with: lost and found.

Relaxing day off, ending with gelato at the beach with Kat. More days should end that way, really.


This morning I found something that had been missing since Tuesday: my wedding ring.

To say that my inability to find it had been causing me some stress and frustration would be a definite understatement. I knew I had seen it Tuesday morning when we were packing up to return home after our housesitting escapades, and I was pretty sure I'd stuck it in my bag - but not 100% sure.

When I was unpacking that afternoon, I couldn't find it. So I tried to convince myself I'd left it up there, but when we went back up to feed the horses one last time and to clean up after ourselves I still couldn't find it. That was when I began to seriously worry I had lost it for good.

I'd asked the owners to keep an eye out for it but really wasn't holding out much hope they'd spot it where I hadn't. As the week went on I went over Tuesday morning in my head again and again, trying to remember what on Earth I'd done with my ring.

So where was it all that time?

In a side pocket of my bag.

Which I'd checked at least five different times.


Greg said...

I can imagine how unpleasant it must have been thinking you'd lost it! I am slightly curious as to why you'd taken it off though – I never take my ring off, exactly because I've come close to losing it once.

Lost and found
Snow, deep and crisp,
Holding footprints still from the night before
Covers everywhere and evens out the streets.
Too tempting to leave untouched,
It's gathered up and formed into ancient art,
Mannikins that line the paths and stare
With eyes of coal,
And vainly clutch at passers-by
With arms of twigs.
And there, glinting on a snowman's finger,
A brittle twig as fragile as a sigh,
Is my wedding ring.
I reclaim it, grateful that the snow had recognised
That I might not have meant to leave it last time.
I race on, there are snowballs to be thrown
And a snow-war to be won.

Pandy Fackler said...

"But I'm SURE I left it there. I know it's there. I KNOW!" I am holding the phone slightly away from my ear as a frantic woman assures me that her cardigan sweater is definitely hanging in the dining room of the restaurant.
"Ma'am, I am really sorry but I just don't see it here. I've checked the lost and found, the back office, and the entire dining area. It's not here."
"Somebody STOLE it!" She shouts. "One of your wait-staff stole it! That's a two hundred dollar sweater! How do I know that YOU are wearing it right now?" I can hear her breathing heavily, exhausting herself with worry.
"Ma'am, I - "
"I bet you took it! Why else would it 'disappear' so easily! I want to talk to the owner! Right now!"
"Ma'am, the owner is on vacation and I'd be happy to have him call you when he returns. In the meantime, I promise that I will keep an eye open for your sweater and call you immediately if it turns up."
"You little liar. This is an outrage!"
It had been a long week. I was tired.
"Ma'am, I remember you from earlier, and I remember your sweater as well. I would never, in a thousand years, steal from my customers. And I would especially not steal a puke-green sweater that looks like my grandmother's bathroom curtains. I suggest that you take this experience as a sign from the cosmos that your sense of fashion is seriously out of focus. Have a nice day." click.

Two days later, I found the cardigan under the back office bench. It's quite comfortable.

Kerry said...

Like so many things, if we can clear our minds, then what is hidden can be found. But it is so hard to do when something is so precious.

Hi all! This is my first post here so here ya go! (Please let me know if the content or language is not appropriate for here.)

Lost and Found
Last night was restless for the both of us and in the end, we both had dreams that were unsettling. For him, having been a medic and a firefighter for years has left him with memories his mind uses as weapons sometimes.

For me it was slightly different. I dreamed of being the vixen my new love makes me feel like I am. But I was that sultry, usable, always half naked wench all the time; cute little skirt patting my ass as I walked and nubile enough not to need a bra again. This became a problem when I had to deal with my Ex to pick up the kids. Almost like saying “Hi, how are ya?” he fucked me while the kid’s played through the room and part of me really liked it. But that part of me that always felt alone with him was waiting.

After sex with him, there was always that part of me that was still singing for release. Sex was great, no doubt about it. And sometimes there was sharing after, he’d tell me something of his past. I wanted to tell him so many things but learned he wasn’t the one to hear them, his own mind so wrapped up in his troubled youth. When I had married him, I knew I gained a physically strong man who knew how to work hard. What I didn’t have was somebody that saw and appreciated all of me. He only saw the parts he wanted to and worked to re-arrange the other parts that didn't fit his image of me.

And now, wrapped safely in the love of my new man, I feel bliss: he knows me, he knows my soul. I feel whole, complete, satisfied. So even as we explore the more primitive callings of animal mating, I feel his tender love in so many ways that I know without a doubt that he sees me as so much more than just a tool for a base need.

Sometimes I find myself mourning the loss of what I had with my Ex. But really, I lost only the illusion of something truly special. It was never to be realized. What I had to give him was never going to be what he needed. And even though he tried, what he had to give me simply wasn’t enough. My soul craves full body contact; mingling of ideas, thoughts and feelings. He, with so much closed off even to himself, was not able to give me that.

Not to worry, I’ve found it. With a man so sweet, I didn’t know it was possible. Our days flow on the current of our love. I’m sure at some point we’ll encounter rapids to deal with but I have no doubt that, as easy as it is to stay in rhythm with each other now, we will strike the right combination of strokes and power our way through the rough spots with their hidden rocks and sucking dead spaces to find a more peaceful co-existence once again.

Marc said...

Greg - its slightly tight, so when my fingers swell in the heat it gets a little uncomfortable. Plus I don't like wearing it while doing dirty work (feeding horses, weeding in the garden, etc).

Beautiful images in your poem, they set such a vivid scene. Particularly liked '... as fragile as a sigh'.

Pandy - the ending diatribe from the overworked waiter is fantastic. And that last paragraph made me smile as well :)

Kerry - welcome to the blog! I'd suggest the language is a little strong for my younger visitors, but it's certainly not over the top.

It's a great bit of writing, and I found this incredibly poignant: "He only saw the parts he wanted to and worked to re-arrange the other parts that didn't fit his image of me."

Wonderful closing sentiment as well. Thank you for sharing :)

Ruby said...

We may lose things in life but we have to keep on going. We may eventually find them but they might not be ours but somebody that we do not know. Then our hearts will be broken, the felling of sadness that you can’t have it. It is Lost and Found.