Lost and Found
I love it that piles of coats and sweaters, books and goggles in the YMCA bin are referred to as “The Lost and Found.” Why not simply “The Lost”? And it’s often brimming over, which comforts me because I lose things oftener than I approve. Mercy! We expect, I guess, that usually people find their things.
Well, I have been lost and found myself. In fact, I’ve been lost twice in the last week, which tells me my lostness is up for healing. Here’s my story. I went with four other grown-ups and three little children to the Magic House, a St. Louis mansion transformed into a playhouse for children. None of our kids got lost. I got lost. After about 15 minutes, the first time, I called each adult on my cellphone. After another 10 minutes my niece answered and came and got me.
Last night during a funeral parlor memorial service, I went to the ladies’ room. When I returned everyone was seated and silent for the formal part. I couldn’t see that my partner had saved a seat for me. So I sat with other friends, befuddled. Lost. Feeling separated. And I remembered it was the second time in five days.
I know to look for similar childhood incidents, especially when two events remind me. I remember shopping with my mom in downtown Famous and Barr when I was about five. I got lost in the notions department. As I repeat that in my mind, I am a child and remember seeing people’s bottoms as I looked around. Just an odd part of the memory. Well, I panicked, stayed where I was and wondered if I’d ever see my mother again. I may have wondered if Mother was mad at me. I may have even wondered if I’d be able to walk and find my way home. I may have even wondered if I’d go to a children’s home and be adopted. I’m pretty sure that I was frozen, unfeeling, numb with fear. Perhaps a salesperson or store manager saw and helped me, made an announcement. Eventually, of course, I saw my mother walking toward me. And now I am ready to feel my panic and then feel my relief. I am ready to let go one more knot in my gut. I was found.
I find and lose and find myself all day long. I could say Love finds me.
I think I’ll write a poem called “Lost and Found.” Love, Mary