A Museum of Memories Without Doors
I used to think that loss was something tragic. But now, after years of losing big and small things, I realize: loss is not only tragic, but also absurd. How could it not be? There are things that disappear without a trace, without logic, as if there was a small black hole in the corner of the room that swallowed everything.
For example, my favorite ballpoint pen. I was sure I put it on the table. Five seconds later, it was gone. I looked under a pile of books, in a drawer, even under the pillow—it was gone. It was as if the pen suddenly realized that it had a life of its own and decided to leave. Then, a few months later, it reappeared in the pocket of a jacket I hadn’t worn for a long time. How? Don’t ask me.
Then there was the motorbike key that always disappeared at the most inopportune times—for example, when I was already late for a meeting. I was sure I had just held it, but when I looked for it, it seemed to be hiding in another dimension. I began to suspect that the motorbike key had the ability to teleport. But of course, this theory only holds true until my mother comes in, looks at me with a "what kind of a kid are you" look and grabs the key off the table, right under my nose.
I imagine there is a place, a kind of Directory of Lost Things, where all the things that have ever been lost are gathered. Maybe there is a special room for fuzzy pens, a dusty shelf where pairs of socks that have lost their partners comfort each other, or a small corner where unsent love letters lie in silence.
And maybe, there are also a bunch of lost memories. Words that were forgotten to be said, promises that were not kept, and someone's last glance that passed without us realizing.
But if loss is sad, why do we sometimes smile when we find it again? When we suddenly find a movie ticket in the pocket of our old pants and remember how exciting the movie we watched that night was. Or when we accidentally find an old photo and realize that someone who used to feel far away is actually still stored in a corner of our heart.
Ah, maybe loss is not just loss. Maybe, it's just the world's way of hiding something to be given back at a more appropriate time. Or… maybe, we're all just forgetful.
