I’ve never been one to have much affection for the things I own. Apart from old photos, I have very few things that can’t be replaced – and if I took the time to scan all those photos I could add those to the list of replaceable items as well. Yes, my laptop is valuable, but only inasmuch as what is on its hard drive. If I lost it but was able to retrieve everything off it, meh. I could buy another.
There is one thing however that I can’t replace. It’s the one thing that, if someone asked me, “If your house was on fire, what, other than your family would you save?” that would be it. It’s a CD. It’s not the music on it, nor is it the case which makes it my most prized possession. In the cover booklet there is a signature by the artist, that reads, “To Linda, with love…”
And I’ve misplaced it: the whole CD, case and booklet.
I’ve spent much of a very frustrating day searching, to no avail. Whilst doing so, I’ve tried convincing myself that it doesn’t matter if, somehow, it ended up in a bag that was put out for garbage without proper inspection. After all, I still have the memories of the event which led up to my having it autographed. That I went all the way to Japan, to a concert–never met the artist, but my booklet did–and came back home with this coveted piece of memorabilia in my hot little hands.
After all, what really matters? It’s only a piece of paper, albeit one that I’ll mourn the loss of, if it never turns up. But I can always hold the memory close to my heart.
I’ll keep trying to convince myself, anyway.