Lost and Found

You've been digging. Digging for an old favorite t-shirt. Where did it go? When was the last time you remember seeing it?

I decide to help you look for your t-shirt. We start at the bed and strip it together. The sheets are dragged to the floor and the feather top is rolled off. We flip the mattress hoping to find the shirt stuffed somewhere inside the bed. You look under the bed, neglecting the mess we made on the floor, and find old socks, a pair of my panties that were tossed aside during a night of passion, a hanger, tissues, and a cat but no t-shirt.

You go to your dresser and pull out all the drawers. Inside the upper right drawer, you find your wedding ring. A perfect golden circle that you slip on your finger. Years ago we laughed about how it made your finger itch and swell. Was that a subconscious comment on married life? The ring was only worn for family events, weddings, and funerals. I would watch you fidget with it the entire time it was on. And then once home, it would disappear. Hidden in the drawer only to be taken out for show. Yet, today you put the ring on without complaint. You put it on without my asking. Don't think I haven't noticed. It looks odd on your finger, but I could get used to seeing you wear it.

We found the band of gold but not the t-shirt. Yet.

The closet doors are thrown open. Shelves full of pants, shorts, swim suits, and probably some questionable items live on the left side. On the right are your shirts hanging neatly. You push aside the long sleeved shirts. Some of which I remember from long ago that no longer fit, but hold memories within their fabric. The family albums hold pictures of you smiling and wearing those shirts. They are tough to let go. Your closet is big enough for those shirts and more if you wanted. So there they stay, hanging memories.

You get down on the floor and shove shoes aside. Ones that you've walked miles and a lifetime in. These shoes went to Maine. Those shoes went deep-sea fishing. And these others held your child's feet in them when he was toddling around and wanted to wear Daddy's shoes backwards.

You dig to the back of your closet. It's the darkest and hardest part to reach. Lots of things get in your way in getting to the back. You pull out the un-needed shit. None of these items are what you want. It's the t-shirt you are searching for.

There, crumpled in a ball in the very back corner you find your favorite t-shirt. It's old. It had been a favorite for such a long time. It went places with you and done things with you. How did it get so misplaced? Sometimes things like that happen. But when you go looking for and actually find it, you can't help but smile.

You hold it up for me to see. It has wrinkles from being stored in a ball for so long. The sleeves are a bit more frayed than I remember and there are a few new holes. It's dusty. The color has faded and it might smell a little funky from being out of the fresh air for so long. As far as I can tell, it's not so far gone that a few washings can't take care of.

The shirt you are wearing is taken off and you put on your old trusty t-shirt. It's a little snug. Your body has changed through the years, but I still see a lot of life left in this old favorite. You look good wearing it. It suits you. My mind flashes back to the old days of when we were just two. Not that being three is a bad thing, but being two was magical.

When you wear that shirt, can you smell the sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches? Do you smell patchouli and hear bells jingling faintly? Do you hear my laughter at a really bad joke I've just told because I was drunk? Or, do you hear me just blathering on about my ride down to your apartment? Do the arms remember holding me? Does the back remember my arms encircled around holding tight? Because I remember.

What was once lost has been found. Let's try to not lose it again.