Lost and Found MAG

August 5, 2008
By Anonymous

I liked being a mess. The desk that should have been clear so I could do my homework was always besieged with bowls of cereal and spoiled milk, old magazines, and Post-it notes I had forgotten to remember. My floor was a vacuum in itself, eating anything entering my room. It consumed sweaters, stuffed animals, socks, shoes. When I occasionally did laundry, I would dig up clothes I couldn't even recall purchasing. My shelves overflowed with containers of little odds and ends: hair bands, chapstick, matches, loose mints, coins, earring backings. I couldn't always see these things, but I knew that they were safe, nestled somewhere on a shelf. Like old friends in a phone book, I figured that someday I would find all the loose strings and tie them together.

One lonely day in August when all of my friends had yet to return from camp in Maine, visiting family in Florida, or some community-service trip in Mexico, something inside me began to itch. I tried taking a shower, scrubbing myself with every bodywash and bar of soap I could find. I brushed my hair and my teeth, but didn't feel any cleaner. I checked my e-mail, which was empty. I checked the DVR to see if any new shows had been recorded, but I had already seen everything.

I went downstairs and found my brother playing video games, my mom on the phone, and my dad in his office – everyone in their right place. I told my mom that something didn't feel right, and she suggested that for once I should clean my room. The thought itself made me nauseous. I went upstairs to sulk, feeling so overwhelmed that I might as well have been floundering without a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

When I opened the door to my bedroom, everything was in its usual cluttered arrangement. A plate of half-eaten pancakes sat on my desk, soggy with syrup from the morning. My bikini hung lifelessly from my doorknob, dripping pool water. My heavy covers lay crumpled and cold across my bed, molded by the twists and turns of the previous night. Piles of dirty clothes sat unsorted, collecting dust.

I stood in the middle of the cluttered room, breathing in the filthy air that I had become so used to. In the silence of that moment, I began to hear the clock ticking. I became aware of the moldy smell. I noticed that a spider had spun a shimmering line from my lamp to the top of my mirror. I shivered in disgust. I remembered that winter how my stuffed animal, Vanilla, had fallen behind my dresser and I hadn't noticed until I caught the repulsive scent of her fur burning against the heater, until it was too late and she was permanently covered in brown spots.

I suddenly felt sympathy for everything in my room that I had buried, never to be seen again. Lost items I had blocked out for years made their way back into my consciousness: my favorite yellow tank top, the picture of my mom and me on that boat in Jamaica, my baseball card collection.

I had an urge to dive under my bed and uncover everything lurking in the murky depths of dust, and to climb up into the highest corners of my closet and rescue items that had been mingling with the spiders. The innocent piles were growing higher and higher until they were looming monsters before my eyes. They were threatening to swallow me whole. I had to get rid of them. And so I started to clean.

In a box buried under old textbooks, I found a letter that my Poppy had written me at camp. I hadn't thought of him since his funeral. I suddenly remembered the thrill of running naked through cold sprinklers with my cousins, the spicy smell of barbecue mixing with the salty air at his beach house, and the distinct feel of his soft sweater rubbing warmly against my cheek each time he enveloped me in a hug. I remembered my dad rocking me to sleep the night Poppy died, and how the tears wouldn't stop.

I sat with his picture, blocking out the rest of the mess around me. I was in the middle of a storm, but I sat there and studied him until I had memorized every line in his face. Tears began to roll down my cheeks again, and the relief was like the sound of heavy rain pounding on a roof at the end of a drought.

In the drawer next to my bed, I found a friendship bracelet my childhood best friend, Aubrey, had given to me before she moved to California. I traced the green and purple pattern with my thumb, realizing that I hadn't spoken to her in years. The next day I called her, and we talked all night, laughing about memories like dressing up as the Spice Girls for Halloween. She reminded me of the time we built a family of snowmen in my backyard and had a funeral for them when they'd melted. I had lost so many precious childhood memories over time, letting them slip away into the tide like grains of sand. It was the kind of conversation you never want to end because for each moment we talked, it felt like a bucket collecting droplets of water from a leak.

Under my bed I even found that picture of my mom and me in Jamaica. I had forgotten how turquoise the water had looked from our ship, but what really caught my attention, though, was my image. I had buck teeth, short hair, and pimples covering my face. I stared at that girl, barely able to recognize this person who had drowned in the mess of my room so many years before. I decided to completely re­organize and revamp my room so that all the books, belts, and baskets were in their right place. It was like finding the missing pieces of the puzzle.

The finishing touch was framing that photo and hanging it high up on my wall. After all, it was me I had been searching for.



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This article has 301 comments.


on Sep. 29 2016 at 3:03 pm
the point should have bean made earlier and touched on more then it was other than that vocab was good

B25282 said...
on Sep. 23 2016 at 1:35 pm
I can't relate but my sister probably can. but I ♥️ It.

Heyyall said...
on Sep. 23 2016 at 8:25 am
Heyyall,
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
That was a good book

yahoo said...
on Jul. 26 2016 at 9:23 pm

on Jul. 5 2016 at 5:54 am
morbidgirl GOLD, Manila, Other
10 articles 0 photos 6 comments
This was just so amazing. every word that was being told was a conspicuous one to decipher and visualize. it was just so amazing to read this.

tateyana said...
on May. 3 2016 at 1:59 pm
tateyana,
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
this article was amazing, the figurative language was just wow. it was very vivid i could see everything she was saying

Ezzplayz said...
on Apr. 25 2016 at 10:10 pm
omg this is amazing

erlis_h SILVER said...
on Apr. 15 2016 at 2:28 am
erlis_h SILVER, Tirana, Other
5 articles 0 photos 2 comments
This was....wow.

Cuhwad BRONZE said...
on Mar. 30 2016 at 8:45 am
Cuhwad BRONZE, Grandville, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 1 comment
Good piece!

Kermit5 said...
on Mar. 23 2016 at 12:21 pm
#thebestiveeverseen

Elrosens said...
on Feb. 26 2016 at 10:12 am
This was a pretty snazzy memoir

TeenKD said...
on Feb. 23 2016 at 3:56 pm
TeenKD, Ogden, Iowa
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
Best that i have ever seen

izzy c said...
on Jan. 22 2016 at 2:12 pm
so deep, she found herself.

bubbles163 said...
on Nov. 5 2015 at 10:40 am
bubbles163,
0 articles 0 photos 8 comments
it makes me cry its so good

bubbles163 said...
on Nov. 5 2015 at 10:34 am
bubbles163,
0 articles 0 photos 8 comments
this is heart warming if u haven't read please do it will change your life that it did with mine.

bubbles163 said...
on Nov. 5 2015 at 10:33 am
bubbles163,
0 articles 0 photos 8 comments
this really inspired me

on Oct. 9 2015 at 12:10 pm
simplyinferior GOLD, Ottawa, Illinois
15 articles 0 photos 23 comments
The title is seriously annoying whenever I tried to change it it would glich ugj

on Oct. 6 2015 at 10:49 am
LittleRedDeliriousPrince SILVER, Parma Heights, Ohio
8 articles 0 photos 104 comments
This is wonderful.

on Sep. 10 2015 at 5:15 pm
A.Qisblackwidow, Torrance, California
0 articles 0 photos 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It takes courage to become who you really are" e.e cummings

Sounds a little like my room (I used to be super neat) you have talent. I really liked it and you caught my attention.

on Sep. 8 2015 at 9:49 am
Gump.Shrimp BRONZE, Franklin, Wisconsin
2 articles 0 photos 1 comment
I really liked this. The use of emotion was amazing.




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