I’ve been getting a lot of responses off my last entry – calls from friends with coffee and cautious emails from family. I guess I don’t know my own strength. I didn’t mean to enstill a panic. It’s just a comment on life, the universe, and everything... the state of the union... life in these Unites States... so please you. I comment. It’s what I do here. Fear not, faithful followers. I’m not trapped in a dank, dark depression.
I’m just a touch... lost.. for the moment.
But as previously discussed, I’m a master at losing things, even me. Especially me. Finding yourself lost in the woods isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You can discover some interesting things when your searching for the path. I’ve found some killer Mexican restaurants that way.
I’ve been lost in every city I’ve ever lived in and nearly every one I’ve visited including – but certainly not limited to – Los Angeles, San José, Oakland, Sacramento, and San Francisco more times that I can count, plus every mall I’ve ever been in and the Honolulu International Airport. That last one is family legend.
The thing about getting lost so often is you get pretty good at getting unlost. It’s a skill. I have an abmissmal sense of direction. Tragic, really. But I have a good memory for landmarks and I can read a map. What’s a geographer really but someone who charts the land of the lost. It’s sort of a prerequisite really. And I’ve always found my way home.
This morning I was plowing through the back closet looking for an Easter skirt long enough to cover the bruises that cover my knees. (This Marilyn Manson piece we’re reheasing in ballet is going to be the death of me, I tell you.) I paused to hang a mislaid hat on a high hook on the wall and bumped the ceiling light fixture on the way. The glass covering fell to the closet floor and smashed into a thousand pieces. I cut my fingers on the shards. Casting around for something to wrap around my hands, my eyes fell on a forgotten corner and there... were my pants.
Lost and found.
So don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way. I generally do. It’s just life. Much like the glass slivers in my fingers, it will work itself out.
Somewhere in today’s hustle and bustle of broken glass and found pants, my favorite silver ring slipped off my little finger. I’ve search high and low. Lost. It’s not a disaster. It will probably find its way home.
Most of us do.