Lost Things

There'd be a purple ribbon.

A leaf dried between the pages of Ride the Wind.

More baby teeth than seem reasonably possible.

There'd be a business card with Dad's phone number printed in dark green.

And then there'd be bigger things.

Innocence. Faith. Trust.

There'd be love, lots and lots of love.

There'd be whole entire people in there.

But I wouldn't reach for them. I lost them on purpose.

They've tried to be found before, but I just bury them under the soft folds of my yellow baby blanket. I might stop to look at my cowgirl hat and the matching pair of boots. I might even think about picking them up, but then I'd continue on, inside the terribly big treasure chest of all my lost things. I might begin to feel hopeless, as I waded through a sea of bobby pins and earring backs, but I hope, after long enough... I'd see her.

The little girl with blazing red hair and matching fire in her eyes. A brave little girl. A good little girl. A little girl so full up on loving life that she spread it all around like Christmas confetti. The smile never seemed to leave her lips. A laugh barely caged under rosy cheeks. A wonderment reflected in the way she ran tiny fingers along leaves and lilac petals. A deep well of kindness in the core of her, where others might come and drink and drink until they were drunk on the sweetness of her spirit, and somehow, still, she'd be full to the brim, spilling little drops of joy wherever she ventured. I'd look for her first, so that maybe, just maybe, I might take her hand and I might walk with her again. I might carry her out of that place full of lost things. I might drink and drink her in until she was found, at last in the place she should have stayed... But.

There is no treasure chest wherein to search for the little girl, for her hope, for her quick laugh, her unquenchable joy. Because the world came and drank and drank and drank, and she gave and gave and gave. Until. One fateful day, she ran dry. What had seemed impossible had happened-- she had nothing left to give, not one drop of joy left to share because they'd taken it all from her and given none in return. And so she is gone, and I would not find her, even if I had a treasure chest of everything I ever lost.

Because she isn't lost.

She's dead.