Lost and Found

I have a blue umbrella. When it was new, it was beautiful, long and sturdy like an outstanding man. Unfortunately, his beauty faded quickly. After a while, the blue turned gray and stains appeared like freckles. So, I began to create oppurtunities to take it out on rainy days, hoping I’d leave it behind. Let it disappear, a painless separation. A perfect excuse to buy a new one. Won’t that be nice?

The unloved are sensitive. One day, it just disappeared, without wasting my energy. Umbrellas have their dignity, too. But wait, I’m not ready. It can’t disappear without my permission. I became determined to get it back. I thought about where I had left it; bookstore, restaurant, library. I searched high and low, desperate to find it again.

Finally, I found it in the library, sitting quietly in the corner near the entrance. It was pouting, waiting for me. I recovered my lost love, all was well. But from another angle, if I had really lost it, it would be gone forever. Would that touch of regret suit me better?