It doesn't seem to matter what you give away. You never get it back. You just buy new mittens and grow new pieces to replace the appendages you've lost, wondering all the while where the old ones have gone, hoping whoever took them cares about them as much as you did back before you gave them away.
longwinter
Above is a story about attachment and about loss. I suppose you cannot miss something you were not attached to at some point, but it is odd how we fixate on inanimate objects that we used to care about. The objects we casually gave away and now miss- and also, second hand, how we judge those who we gave those items to and why they did not either give them back to us- or treat them with care.
Mostly this is a story about small items we give away to someone who is not attached to them and so throw them away (the way we dispose of trash and other things we do not care about). Because we don't need them- or don't want them. It is, of course, just a thing. Why do we do this? Why do people place value on things they did not cherish enough to hold onto (because if we did, we surely would not have loaned them away, right ?)
But we do. We do this all the time, then the cycle begins again--
Like. Love. Loan. Lose. Grieve
It is as though the person who we trusted with the small thing (a piece of clothing, a piece of jewlery, a book) did not read the fine print-- "This matters to E- take care of it, do not lose it and if you no longer want it- make sure you give it back."
It was there (unspoken) at the time of the exchange. Right ? Ok, maybe not.
Missing a place, seems logical. We all had a home when we were young, right ? Missing a person also makes sense, even if it was a relative, even if it was a friend who maybe did not treat you well. Or you did not treat them well. Missing others inspires a lot of fiction, maybe even poetry. You know how that goes. But a sweater ? A pair of shoes or maybe a blanket- how you can you miss something so mundane, so small ?
I just know we do this, all of us, at one time or another. Looking back later with regret is the price of growing old. Or maybe one of the prices. My only advice is that the next time you are about to loan something small to a friend, take a moment to consider: What will I do if I never see it again ? What will I think of this person if they never bring it back?
What will I think of myself?