Two week ago, I settled into my seat on our connecting flight at Heathrow for Stockholm only to realize I left my personal Journal back on the Boston-London flight we just flew in on. The journal had a year’s worth of writing in it. It felt like a punch in the stomach. And then there was the helpless hoping that someone would turn it in because it had my name and address in it. That has yet to happen.
Upon arrival, I immediately monitored the Heathrow/British Air “lost and found” website with the fading hope my journal would turn up. To add insult to injury, besides valuable items, an astonishing amount of crap was turned in (packs of cigarettes and paper back novels) – but not my journal. It was incredible to think all this crap was found on the plane and turned in and my journal got tossed? But who knows? Maybe it was never found and is presently flying around the would on a 777 until it turns up someday.
Losing a journal is a weird thing. It only has value to me. Most people can’t relate to having one let alone losing one. I don’t worry about it revealing any secrets because I haven’t committed any major felonies during the period of time the journal! Still, I regret the thought and incidents I documented that I won’t be able to remember even if I had time to reconstruct the year.
Back in Boston, my friend was distraught because her beloved cat “Freddie” got out of the house and was missing. On the news, a five year old girl lost her life falling out an apartment window on a hot summer night. Those two things helped keep in perspective the loss of my journal. It doesn’t get much more wrapped up with oneself than keeping a journal.
And then I heard Freddie came back!
copyright 2017 Christopher Donahue