lost and found

About a month ago, I lost one of my favorite earrings. I’d just got my hair cut, and went to Hammersly’s for Tak’s birthday dinner. Carelessly, I’d thrown my earrings in my handbag, and when I went to get my sweater, one of them fell out. Just in case, I left my name, number, and a description of the errant hoop with the very nice hostess. While I was willing to let it go, I was really sad; I’d bought the pair at a cute shop in Brooklyn with my girlfriend, and they represented a time and place that was special, both in meaning and where I was in my life. Plus, I wear them all the time!

Luckily, the earring turned up (Tak had a feeling it would), and we were happily reunited. But it makes me think of my possessions in an interesting way. In Christopher Moore’s book A Dirty Job, people’s souls reside in their objects; when the person dies, a soul collector or Death Merchant takes the item and sells it, making sure it goes to someone new who will love it. For some of the characters in the book, the item is an entire clothing collection, breast implants, or a cigarette case. Sometimes I wonder in what thing of mine would be the lucky object/s that’s holding my soul.