I can only remember losing 3 favorite items of clothing in my life (there are probably more, but not as beloved):
1. A wonderful puffy pink jacket when I was 10. I can still remember exactly where I left it, on the stacks of chairs in the fellowship hall of Camp Orkila.
2. The most versatile layer you could ever own - the Black North Face vest, newly purchased and somehow easily misplaced. I probably had it for a few months and then poof - gone - no idea where it decided to go, or why it decided to leave. I do believe I have documented proof of its existence somewhere ...
3. Most recently, my favorite purchase of the summer - a bright teal cardigan of perfect size, shape and color. It accompanied me to weddings, was worn perfectly with fancy shirts and simple ones, and gave me just the right amount of warmth. But in some part of the unpacking process, it lost its way and is no where to be found. I have overturned the contents of my drawers and closet, hoping beyond hopes to rejoice as the woman did who found her lost coin, but alas, my misfortune as of yet has not become a parable.
So there you have it, a simple slice of my losing capabilites. I will not waste your time on the favorite chapstick that has also disappeared.
So how do we respond to such misfortune? We mourn, we share our grief with those around us (I have not yet built up the courage to even think of replacing the cardigan). But perhaps it is also appropriate to let out some of the feelings of outrage that come in the midst of losing things, and for this, my friends, I bring you to the art of Stomp/Step. Absolutely glorious. And perhaps it was more that I was able to completely forget about my lost items, and remember that I am found, and that rhythm and motion have a way of healing all wounds.
