I’ve lost friendships, weight, hope, patience, tears, keys, my mind, money, faith, and inspiration. I misplaced clothes and coupons along with bills, my car in countless parking lots, baby socks, recipes, and grudges. I couldn’t find the point sometimes, see the purpose, understand the reason, or otherwise otherwise bother with it. Whatever it was. I lost respect for some. I lost my cool and even my usual ability to remain calm in certain circumstances. I lost my place in lines, in books, in projects, in belly dance routines. I lost my way, lost my purpose, lost my style — no I didn’t, that’s a bluff.
Yet I gained new experiences, new relationships and memories. Found new hope and faith, came across my inspiration again. I still lose my keys, but I always find them. I’m finding points that matter and purposes that make a difference, gaining understanding that will improve my world and my parenting. I keep my calm, bother with things that are botherable. Respect the people who deserve it — along with trust. I have found better ways to menu plan and to keep track of recipes, take pictures of where I park my car and don’t worry about lines anymore. I also just buy more socks.
What is lost, most of the time, is sometimes meant to be lost just so it can be found again. The finding of things is more important.