I now find myself frantically searching for it.
‘It has to be around here’ I think
It just has to be as I dump out another drawer of clothing. I am half way through my search and it looks like an earthquake hit in my bedroom. Clothing thrown, hanging off the bed. I can see what appears to be a pair of my underwear, which has found its home dangling from my ceiling fan somehow.
‘It’s not in here!’ I yell out of frustration
Sweat at this point is running down my brow. This is not good; I need to find this. My search takes me out of the bedroom; if it is not there, it has to be in the living room… it just has to be. In a flurry of papers thrown everywhere, I am now fully panicking, as if I had not already been panicking enough by this point.
‘Fuck, it has to be here’
I open my file box, the only other place I can think it might be. I do not wait to find out, I want it and I want it NOW. The contents of the box find itself at my feet when I turn it over. My heart is racing almost as fast as my mind as I search wildly for it. It has to be here, my eyes scan for it while I madly grope the papers in front of me. My heart sinks to the floor.
‘It’s not here’
I stand up and realize the aftermath of my search. The floor, which WAS a nice tan carpet, is now covered completely in papers, miscellaneous knickknacks’, and what could be described as garbage to the casual observer. However, not to me, this was everything I owned. Turned inside out and I STILL could not find it.
Defeated I clean up my mess, hours pass before I have everything back in its place that took me minutes to remove from its carefully selected home. When I am finished, I cannot take my mind off the guilt for losing it. Quickly I find myself on the floor in the fetal position trying to comfort myself for the loss. Quietly the voice in my head reminds me that it is okay
‘I still love you’ it tells me
I hug myself tightly while I sob, minutes, hours, days… it does not even register at this point.
Finally, I am back on my feet, I walk to the bathroom, calmly. Shower, and then wash my face. I get my clothing out, get dressed, grab my bag and walk to the door leaving for work. I reach out for the doorknob but before I can turn it, I find myself looking at the photos to the left of me.
On the wall, two individually framed photos of my Uncle and me. The only photos I have of anyone in the house. I touch the top one gently. It was taken at least 15 years after the first photo; he still looked the same if not better. Time had been kind to the man. He had been the only father figure I ever knew, if he had been around full time life wouldn’t have been so bad, he was a good man and I failed him.
‘Sorry Uncle Karl, I lost it.’ I say to the photo half hoping for a response.
It never comes.
I close the door behind me, lock it and place the keys securely into my pocket.
As I walk away I cannot help but think, maybe I never really had it. Maybe I was just imagining it. It is a tricky thing you know, losing something. Maybe it was all in your head that it was yours to begin with. I never did find it that day, but I still look from time to time to double check that it has not come back to me.
I just could not, for the life of me find it. But then again it is a hard thing to hold on to, after Uncle Karl passed, I think I may have mistaken it for recklessness and stupidity. Nevertheless, I know it is out there somewhere.
My missing courage…