I KNOW IT’S HERE.

I remember packing it.  It’s in a box.  A small one, as I recall.  Or maybe it was a large one. I can’t exactly remember.  There were so many of them.  Boxes, that is.  I had thought it was in the one marked kitchen.  But maybe it was in the one marked attic.  Or even basement.  Which could be  a problem since we have neither in our new space.   

If it was truly marked “kitchen,” well, then that means it once lived in the old kitchen which was considerably bigger than the new kitchen.  Theoretically, smaller spaces should make it easier to find stuff but that’s not holding true right now.. 

It’ll show up.  I’m sure. When or where is quite another matter.  In the meantime, I’ll cope as best I can.

There’s an important and simple lesson to be learned here:  Old people should not move.  Ever.  Period.  End of discussion.

PS. A few days later: I FOUND IT! And by sheer luck! “IT” is a small glass heart, one of a pair, given to me years and years and years ago by my dear friend Adele. They’ve been on my dining room table for all those many years. Always as a pair. Always together. Always as a reminder of our friendship. I had accepted that having one was better than having none but the joy to have them back together is overwhelming. It is, as always, the small things that matter.