The Museum of Lost Things

I wander around the dark corners of my life, grieving, trying to retrace my steps, looking but not searching. I know I will never see them again. After so many years they are still tiny perforations in my paper-thin soul, which would, I believe, be complete if only they had not been lost.

I catalogue them in my mind, wincing each time I recall the loss, a Museum of Lost Things, darkness extinguishing flickering lights like an early cinematographic film. Each one briefly illuminated by its value, dimmed by the grief of its absence.

Exhibit A. Lost in 1976. Oh, the shock-dark disappointment of losing two carrier bags of clothes newly bought with cautiously saved early wages. Left in changing room in C&A. A day spent choosing, deliberating, agonizing with care for the wedding of my cousin. The first wedding I had ever been invited to and the most delicious item was a pale blue chiffon swathed hat. Then, defying the dark loss, my sister and I pooled the remainder of our savings and raced around the shops re-purchasing identical items.  The lightness in our hearts when we went home on the bus. Such a relief! How we congratulated ourselves, a bright glorious sunshiny day. The only thing we had really lost was the money, it taught me a lesson I never forgot.

Exhibit B. Lost in 1979. Cigarette lighter. Last seen in pocket of cape. I was a young nurse in those days, been on night duty, left my cape in the dining room after midnight break. Either someone else mistakenly took my cape or I took the wrong one. But they weren’t to know that my uncle Billy had been killed in car accident months earlier and this was his lighter. I don’t smoke any more, I never miss having a lighter, but it hurts that I lost it. In one dim corner, the fact that I never saw it again hunches grumpily. But when I open my eyes in the museum I remember I still have the small blue beaded ring which was in his pocket when he died. A sparkle of stardust light falls and illuminates, banishing the grump.

Exhibit C. Lost in 1983. Diamond engagement ring. Thirteen diamonds set as a flower on a platinum band. Never brought me any happiness, neither did the gold band which accompanied it. I expect that by now I would have sold it and had no regrets. The man who gave it to me was cold and wealthy. My life with him made a dark place in my memory. Heartbreak, insomnia and weight loss were the outward signs although the ring was a beauty. I learned to sleep eat and grow fat in my subsequent ring-free relationship. I hold a candle over that loss, its flickering light lets me know that that life was an illusion, something which was never meant to stay, but a pathway I had to take to freedom.

Exhibit D.Lost in 1988. Twin buggy. Left outside the chemists on the busy high street. A gift from my parents on the birth of their grandchildren.  This could surely have been my darkest loss but it only wafts, cobweb-like, across the cinematographic film of memories. I always left the twins there, outside the shop, sleeping in the buggy whilst I sweated around the narrow aisles grabbing gripe water and Calpol from the shelves. The day the buggy disappeared I had a friend with me, and we had lifted out the twins, one each, as we wedged it against the doorstep. The buggy was empty, my bingo card was full. Never again would I consider myself unlucky. The light shone on all of us that day.

Exhibit E.Lost 1999. A suitcase containing my daughter’s holiday clothes. A huge family millennium party occupied all our attention and excitement but as the train pulled away from the platform we realized we were one suitcase short. Left behind. Never seen again. My daughter’s distress, filling the carriage with tears and tragedy soon turned to joy by virtue of an extravagant shopping spree. To be undertaken immediately on arrival, not to be delayed by a single moment. For my daughter, it was a brilliant shining outcome. And a lesson for me, Always count your suitcases before you are dispatched.

Exhibit F. Lost 2010. Diamond and sapphire bracelet. My son’s graduation ceremony. The loss is upsetting, it was a precious gift from my partner but its very absence reminds me of the joy we felt on that glorious occasion. I would have cried anyway that day, but as the light shone on us from the windows of Truro Cathedral I knew I was blessed.  I do have to admit though, I am a material girl and the jewels are missed.

Exhibit G. Lost. Since 1969 and Continually Repeated. Earrings. Many single earrings . Why must I remind myself of the number of ears which lost a ring? Never the least valuable, they never slip out unnoticed whilst I remove a scarf. I never lose the ones which pinch and twist and irritate. I keep the singletons in boxes, the darkness in me expects them to fester, the light in me hopes they will germinate. Or that their partner might be recovered, and very occasionally they are. But each one of those lonely single earrings reminds me of where they were bought, with whom, or on which occasion they were worn. I only have two ears, after all, I have never needed to decorate more. My single earrings box glitters with hope and promise, as, pirate-like I defy the two earring fashion and shine in my own unique way.

The Museum of Lost Things, of course, it can never be found. It will always remain inaccessibly dark. But I have left the dark behind, and whilst there are no lights to guide me to the museum, it has been the paths I have taken through loss that have lead to light. The perforations in my heart have crisped at the edges, time has made adjustments and now the picture of my life which I carry in my soul is lit bright, I have banished the dark losses. Instead of damaging the protection around my soul, I find that the perforations let me be me.