Things I Have Lost: my husband, the souvenir Germany key chain from the Kringlemarket, my favorite wrap skirt and black sweater, my mind on several occasions (that mostly comes back), dreams I want to write down, the garlic press, more things I cannot remember (at least right now)
I lost my self, when I was three, or five, or seven, or 21. It's a long journey back. Nightly, now, I dream of losing my teeth, my I.D. card, my horse, my way. Yet I know I am travelling toward a familiar place, and I will know it when I arrive.
Feb 28, 2022·edited Feb 28, 2022Liked by Penny Zang
I’ve lost bits and pieces of myself all through life: All my teeth starting at the age of six. My love for Brian Fontaine in the fifth grade. My sexual innocence when my brother, crying, told me he and the boy next door had done something bad. My faith, which I suppose gradually left over decades, only I didn’t know I was losing it until one day it was simply gone. My youth, which wandered away, stealing the fat at my temples and the round lift of my cheeks as it went.
I suppose, in a way, this is the hard kindness of our Mother Nature. How she cherishes us!
Gently, or not, she pries one thing from our hands, then another, then another, because practice makes perfect after all, and she knows that one day—one day—we will lose everything.
Things I Have Lost: my husband, the souvenir Germany key chain from the Kringlemarket, my favorite wrap skirt and black sweater, my mind on several occasions (that mostly comes back), dreams I want to write down, the garlic press, more things I cannot remember (at least right now)
Thank you so much for sharing, Tammy. There's so much here (including that damn garlic press). Love love love.
I lost my self, when I was three, or five, or seven, or 21. It's a long journey back. Nightly, now, I dream of losing my teeth, my I.D. card, my horse, my way. Yet I know I am travelling toward a familiar place, and I will know it when I arrive.
This is so lovely, Ellen. Definitely a long journey back. Thank you for sharing.
I’ve lost bits and pieces of myself all through life: All my teeth starting at the age of six. My love for Brian Fontaine in the fifth grade. My sexual innocence when my brother, crying, told me he and the boy next door had done something bad. My faith, which I suppose gradually left over decades, only I didn’t know I was losing it until one day it was simply gone. My youth, which wandered away, stealing the fat at my temples and the round lift of my cheeks as it went.
I suppose, in a way, this is the hard kindness of our Mother Nature. How she cherishes us!
Gently, or not, she pries one thing from our hands, then another, then another, because practice makes perfect after all, and she knows that one day—one day—we will lose everything.