Lost

I’ve lost
20 baby teeth, and 4 wisdom teeth;
the pink basket on the purple bicycle I rode when I was 7; and
at least a baker’s dozen starry-eyed illusions.

I’ve lost my temper—somehow I always find that again, though.

And I’ve lost
my voice, my heart, my virginity.
My car keys.

I’ve lost bets and games and principles.

I’ve lost
my favorite red sweater,
a multitude of socks, and
at least a half dozen friends.

I’ve lost myself.

I’ve lost
earrings and earring backs and necklaces;
scarves and hats; and
love.

I’ve lost weight—but somehow, I always find that again.

I’ve lost
11 lucky coins,
23 books, and
my sanity.

I’ve lost my religion.

I’ve lost
a husband,
a fiance, and
memories.

I’ve lost the thread.

I’ve lost
my glasses,
my license, and
my preconceptions.

But no matter what I’ve lost, there’s always more to find.

I’ve found
fossils,
arrowheads, and
joy.

I’ve found soulmates.

I’ve found
flowers,
pennies, and
peace.

Sometimes life is in the lost things, in the losing them and finding them and losing them again.

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