Losing It

"Are you sure you're not going to lose it?" she said with the tone of someone who has it all together.  I hesitate as I reached for the piece of paper, thinking, Why, yes, of course I'm going to lose it and when I do, I can simply call the doctor and explain that I lost it.  I have complete faith in these plans because that’s how I roll:   Losing Things.  Most especially, important pieces of paper.  She hands over our son’s prescription to have his heart checked. Since I am adopted, my son and I have no real medical history, no parents or grandparents to give us clues about how strong our hearts are.  The doctor insists on extra testing to make sure the medication is not hurting his heart. I fold it and carefully place it in my brown leather wallet. Her brown leather wallet. The one she gave me as a hand-me-down in 1998. For the rest of the week, I replay the scene over in my mind except this time I actually say my sassy comeback: Let me just put it in this wallet that I haven't lost in the last FOURTEEN YEARS. *sticks out tongue*

However, a few weeks later, I am really glad I didn't have my sassy retort in the moment. Because my wallet is gone. I was couch shopping and I'm pretty sure it fell out of my pocket. (I have to LAY on the couches to decide if they will really work for me in the middle of the night.) I've made all the phone calls and now I'm going through a few stages of grief. Everything is, of course, replaceable, except the $50 Lowes card I bought on the last day Giant Eagle was giving .20 fuel perks on gift cards. But at least I used most of that to paint Georgia's room. Everything is replaceable except, of course, the wallet she gave me when she was still optimistic enough to try to help me get organized.

"Are you sure you're not going to lose it?" is a funny question for my First Wife to ask me.  Are we ever sure? And considering the history of my mental health and my super-cliched midlife crisis at the end of our marriage, there is a subtle play on the words "lose it." I didn't lose the prescription. I lost the wallet. I lost the girl.

Sometimes you don't realize how gutted you've been until you are in the clear.

Never make the same mistake twice.  Make it three times.  Be sure.--Josh Hara