Letter to all the things I've lost

To: All the things I've lost over the years
at a random Lost and Found or maybe, the magical land where rogue socks escape to be free from their evil twins

From: Your former owner who misses you terribly

I hope you are well when this message reaches you. I thought about sending a letter when M's black school shoe went missing. We looked everywhere, but we couldn't find it, so we sent the kid to school in sparkly leopard print flats.

Retainer, I thought of you first, you were, perhaps, the one I was the sorriest to lose. Not only I missed you (I know we didn't have the best of relationships), but I was terrified to let my parents know I needed a replacement.

Books I lent and never got back, I hope you found good homes, I imagine all of you in beautiful dark wood home libraries, next to first editions. Or maybe in the hands of a young kid passionate about reading. I just hope you didn't end up as kindle.

Glasses I left on a plane. You were my favorite, and I have not replaced you, I can't. I rather have blurry sight.

My late grandfather's magnifying glass. Your departure was violent. It was my second grade teacher's fault. I believe now, looking back, that she had mental problems. That year was bad. She would tell seven-year-olds scary stories (that later I found out where Horacio Quiroga's and horrible apocalyptic movies,) and she told us about life just plain sucking. She took you away even though you were a family heirloom, along with one of my favorite books. But I'm better, I hope you are too.

And dear, dear old socks.

Rock on.