Where Art Thee, Lost Luggage?

Lost luggage, it happens to nearly every traveler at least once in their lifetime. Hearing the doorbell ring at 3 am after the airline remembers to direct your bag to your final destination isn't all that uncommon. But I am now on day three without any luggage, and what an experience it's been.

Apparently my bag disappeared into some black abyss. Last night I couldn't sleep, asking myself why I had to pack every single one of my favorite articles of clothing in my black duffel bag bound for San Diego. Perhaps I could have chosen to leave my favorite maroon shorts, my best overcoat, or my fanciest sweater and button up set safely behind in my home? But no, I had to take the best of the best to San Diego. And now I wonder why. Even more disturbing, why does a misplaced bag feel like I've lost a runaway child?

I've spent hours on the phone searching for my precious beloved, and nothing seems right without the extra presence. I haven't even had the opportunity to change my underwear.

Fortunately Frontier Airlines allowed me to spend $200 on clothes and they claim they'll compensate for what I spent even when they find my beloved black duffel. (Perhaps it's time to change that underwear.)

But nothing can replace the items carefully tucked away in my duffel bag. I mean, I take pictures of every single item I own before giving it to Good Will or the Salvation Army. Somehow I feel like the photograph can help me remember what I felt and experienced when I wore the clothes I gave away. It works for me, but now we're talking about parting with clothes I haven't photographed or even emotionally distanced myself from.

Of course I'm exaggerating here, and I am quite lucky for many reasons.
1. I made it to San Diego safely. Better my bag than me.
2. None of my friends or relatives have gone missing in the past few days.
3. I'm fortunate to have clothes I like.
4. At least I have my health.

I try to look at the positive in the situation, and I haven't really shown my disappointment to those who surround me.

Even so, oh how I miss my dear lost luggage. No matter where you are, allow my blogging voice to travel toward you at 340.29 meters per second. No matter where you are, you'll get my message eventually. I send you this:

Lost Luggage--

Please find home quickly. Your mother is sighing deeply, waiting for you expectantly. She can't sleep without you, and she hasn't even changed her underwear. Don't get sold in an auction in Alabama. Come home, lost luggage, come home. I'll treasure you like never before.

Love,

Lauren

P.S. If you come back, lost luggage, I'll wear your clothes as I dance around to Ben Lee's new songs from his latest album deemed Ripe.