Again I search the drawer
for my small silver spoon
with the Space Needle
on the handle, the one
my mother bought me
when I was not yet two
and we lived in Seattle.
How I loved that spoon,
bringing it with me everywhere
I’ve moved—to college, grad school,
to the top of a mountain,
to a low river valley. I love
the shape of it, sure,
the way the bowl of the spoon
is pointed and shallow,
perfect for small bites
of vanilla ice cream.
Mostly, what I love
is thinking of how my mother,
who had so little then,
wanted to buy her daughter
a treasure. It’s been years
since the last time I touched it.
It’s disappeared many times,
my own young children as enamored
with the spoon as I, and so
I have found the spoon behind the couch
or beneath their beds or left outside
on the arm of a lawn chair,
sometimes even back in its slot
in the drawer.
So for years, I’ve assumed
the spoon will return.
To this day, I don’t think of it as lost.
How could I, when every time
I eat yogurt or ice cream or oatmeal,
I look in the drawer for the spoon,
which is to say every day I touch the spoon
with my mind, every day I remember
the way a mother bought her daughter
a treasure, I think of the love, and every day,
even when it’s not here, it’s so here.
Posts Tagged ‘lost’
What Can’t Be Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, gift, lost, mother, spoon on July 22, 2025| 4 Comments »
Not Exactly Lost Near the Bitterbrush Trail
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, nordic skiing, presence, snow on February 24, 2025| 6 Comments »
In the flat, low light
of morning there
is no way to see
the trail in the valley
of snow, and so,
new to this place,
I let myself not know
where I’m going.
I move more slowly,
let myself be led by
the trail as it appears.
Each moment is like
a new invisible map
that proclaims again
and again
You Are Here.
Sitting with Rachel in the Morning
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, found, friendship, lost, rachel on June 11, 2023| 7 Comments »
The secret, she says, is to put yourself
in the mindset of the thing that is lost.
And so it is she finds her lover’s shoes,
her misplaced keys, the coin I thought
was missing. It’s her superpower,
she says. I just think to myself,
if I were a key, where would I be?
For years, I have felt this—
how she imagines her way inside me,
enters me like sunshine inside water,
shining until, I, too, feel found.
Unlost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged boat, knowing, lost, path, sea, trust on February 1, 2023| 7 Comments »
The day is a rudderless path
and still I cling to star charts,
to maps. As if knowing
a destination is synonymous
with purpose. If the wind
should steal the maps,
would I rush to make them anew?
I say there is beauty
in the drift, yet I keep
carving new oars.
I am learning to love
what a day is.
Sometimes, I trust
what is here.
In Copley Square, Off the Green Line, One Block from Trinity Church
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Boston, found, lost, people, place on March 25, 2022| 1 Comment »
In Copley Square, off the Green Line, One Block from Trinity Church
I stepped off the train into the subway station,
ran to the news stand to look at candy,
then turned to ask mom, Can we buy it?
Blur of strangers. Thunder of trains.
Voice of man announcing arrivals.
Heart pounding. Heart pounding.
Where is my mother?
Child crying. Stale scent of piss.
Did she leave me?
I ran through the turnstile, then up, up,
up to find sidewalk, taxis, traffic, sirens,
businessmen, tourists, panhandlers,
and the smallness of myself,
a seven-year-old girl alone in a city
a thousand miles from home.
That was when I learned
you could know exactly where you are
on a map and still be lost.
That was when I learned
how desperately the heart
longs to be found.
One Not Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, mushroom hunting, walking on July 28, 2021| Leave a Comment »
charting our course
using mushroom rings—
earthbound constellations
Lost:
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged fool, inner life, lost on June 6, 2021| 2 Comments »
What happened to my inner fool?
So serious—as if she forgot how
to joke, how to tease, how
to fall down and come up laughing.
Just today she wore a prune face
for real. She slapped at any hand
that would tickle her. I keep waiting
for her to crack a grin and say,
Fooled you. I remember the jingle
of the bells on her hat, spontaneous
music, the sound so bright my heart
sat up like a good dog, each tinkling
a bell calling me home.
Advice to Self: Get Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, love, map, move, path on October 27, 2020| Leave a Comment »
To move forward, move forward.
But first, get lost.
Really lost. If you have a map,
burn it. Not that there’s
anything wrong with a map.
But you must recalibrate
the one using it. Let her not know
where she is. And if she does know,
perhaps through rote,
perhaps through muscle memory,
then spin her around
with a blindfold on,
the way kids do when pinning
a paper tail on a donkey.
Spin her until she has no idea
which direction to walk with that tail.
Spin her until she falls.
And then let her do as St. Francis taught—
let step in whatever direction
her head is pointing.
Let her trust that any direction she steps
can be the right way forward,
every path can be a path toward love.
Things That Can Be Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, present moment on July 28, 2020| 7 Comments »
The way, of course.
Your mind, your head,
your hope, your heart.
Face. Your footing. Virginity.
Shirt buttons. Coat buttons.
Breath. Bearings.
Balance. Your deposit.
Your dignity.
Respect. Perspective.
Quarters and pens
between the car seats.
Your accent. Your appetite.
My trust. Baby teeth.
Your innocence. Sunglasses.
Your job. Your cool.
Your shirt. Your gut.
Your grip. Your hair.
The key to the house.
The key to your car.
The key to staying calm
when something crucial is lost.
Like time. Like memories—
the ones in which we had no clue
just how much we had to lose.
Like our nerve. Like our fear.
Like this day, our only chance
to show up. Like this now,
our next chance to let go.
That Song
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, loss, lost, map, music, song on July 7, 2020| 2 Comments »
I want to slip into the song
you sang, the one with verse
about loss. I want to hang
on its notes as if they were branches
I could swing from, want to climb
through its chorus, want to meet it
in its rests, want to offer it tea.
I want to ask the guitar
about your fingers, about
how they knew where
to find the melody. And how?
I want to speak with the loss itself,
want to ask it if it’s sure its lost,
want to offer it a map made of apples
and wings and moon.
I want to hear the silence after
the song, and then beg it, beg it,
to keep singing.