Lost

The quiet sense of something lost.
—Alfred Tennyson

Once I lost my house keys for three days.

When I put six socks in the washer—five come out. The sixth may disappear for weeks or simply never show up.

Yesterday I nicked a curb, but never heard anything save my tire rubbing up against concrete. This morning we noted a hubcap missing.

At least I knew how it happened. Often something is lost and you don't know how or why. You can pin down some losses, others are elusive— A friend who no longer calls, a child who drifts away, an individual losing their way—falling down a chute. People lose their way—become lost.

Some people spend a lifetime attempting to retrieve what is lost—others move on and accept that not everything that can be found wants to be found.

It's hard to release the desire to track down, to mend, to revive what is lost.