I think I’m very bad at dealing with loss. And I should take better care of my belongings.
Today, my tiny butterfly hairclip fell 12 storeys to hit the ground with an impact that made its teeth cave in. I ran downstairs thinking I wouldn’t see it again. But I saw it immediately; even the torch had been unnecessary. Made my heart soar before plummeting back to the depths it rose from one second ago.
I spent 45 minutes trying to repair it with a pair of pliers, all the while thinking about my snowflake tumbler I broke last December. Then I broke one of its teeth. I feel like crying ):
That clip has been on my hair nearly every day since Dick bought it, I think the tough weeks we had when project deadlines were driving us mad and every conversation we had seemed to center on campaign ideas and fake survey results and journal theories. (It survived Spain and Morocco!) He didn’t choose it, but it had cheered me when I held it between my fingers. AND IT’S SO PRETTY. ):
It came in a pink mesh pouch, the kind for potpourri, and must have been around $8.45 or something. I think it was a Sunday. Outside GAP where we met at Vivocity and he was late and I think my phone was dead and I had had to call him from a payphone. And I think he had told me then, “Don’t break it like your other clip.” Sigh. IT’S SO PRETTY. ):
And it’s only been about 4 months.