Lost and Found | Teen Ink

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 427 comments.

Luv u <3 xx said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:32 pm
haha sammi lol <3 xx

batman.<3 said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:30 pm
This is very interesting, it would make a good book. :)

sammi said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:30 pm
nawww i love u 2 hahahah xx

on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:30 pm
I loved it :) Especially the end. It's amazing (: x

Luv u <3 xx said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:29 pm

This was a great memior!!!!

I enjoyed this heaps!!!! :) xx

i love u sammi doodle


heyy said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:28 pm
heyy nice job wit the photo i like the figuritive language

ashlee kate said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:28 pm
niiice (Y)

anominiouse said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:27 pm
great memior love 2 read more

on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:26 pm
heeeey ppl i dont lke ready it does my head innn but i loooovvvveeeedddd thissssssssssss xxoo hahahha

on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:24 pm
i love the last bit babe xx

on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:24 pm
i think this is a good 1 and ur very good evan though i dont like reading i read iit :)

benn hudson said...
on Feb. 24 2011 at 7:23 pm
heyy nice job wit the wirtin, nie photo by the way :) xo

cracker said...
on Feb. 23 2011 at 4:22 pm
just like me

cracker said...
on Feb. 23 2011 at 4:21 pm
looks likem my sister

AnumK SILVER said...
on Feb. 13 2011 at 11:16 am
AnumK SILVER, Karachi, Other
8 articles 0 photos 38 comments

Beautifully written!

The way you described it all and ended it up was unique and touchy! :)

Keep it up.

on Feb. 5 2011 at 8:40 pm
-143_ily. BRONZE, Over The Rainbow,Where The Skittles Are, Georgia
1 article 1 photo 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
~*You Know You're In Love When You Can't Fall Asleep Because Reality Is Finally Better Than Your Dreams!*~ <3

~If U Want Me 2 Fall For U..... U Gotta Give Me Sumthin' Worth Trippin' Ova! ~

I loved the figurative language you used to describe certain moments. It really spiced it up! :)

on Feb. 3 2011 at 8:40 pm
WerewolfWriting BRONZE, Eerie, Nevada
4 articles 0 photos 32 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Life is not about the breaths we take but about the people who take our breath away."

This is excellent work! You really described the room and the entire story that I could see it perfectly and understand your feeling. :) This is perfection!

boklenhle GOLD said...
on Feb. 3 2011 at 7:53 pm
boklenhle GOLD, North Platte, Nebraska
16 articles 0 photos 40 comments

Favorite Quote:
Our scars tell us where we have been, but do not have to dictate where we are going.

This is an awesome memior!!

on Jan. 19 2011 at 7:19 pm
maddymcc17 BRONZE, Westport, Connecticut
4 articles 0 photos 3 comments
Great memior!

on Jan. 12 2011 at 8:29 pm
UNKNOWN........, Coon Rapids, Minnesota
0 articles 0 photos 20 comments

Favorite Quote:
the only thing we have to fear is fear itself... and spiders

HAHA funny!