How it always ends up like this
Two lovers staring at each other through a phone screen, lost
Lost: Season One — Camp Cope
I lost one of my favourite gloves in New Zealand. I dropped it on Day 2 of the conference and a man in a striped shirt pointed it out, kindly.
There is was, resting defiantly — recalcitrantly even — on the floor, having fallen there without so much as a sound to alert me.
I was effusive in my gratitude.
Those gloves were part of me. My best friend brought them home from America.
I thanked my lucky stars for the near miss as I picked up the runaway glove and stuffed it into my conference bag with its mate.
The day we left New Zealand — after a night of competitive flirting with cocktail waiters and dancing with backpackers — I searched through every single piece of my luggage.
I could only find one glove.
I was incredulous.
But that guy in the striped shirt had told me I dropped one and I thanked him effusively and I picked it up and tucked it safely away.
I thought I did all I could.
But sometimes things are just lost.
Now it’s winter. And I miss my gloves.
I bought a new pair on Monday when the chill bit me hard. They are warm and I like them.
But you can’t really replace lost things.
All you can do is keep moving. Because there’s a plane to catch, and another adventure.
And sometimes things are just lost.