Lost, Found, and Souvenirs

The orange gummy bear was still there. All day, all night, for a month. It was hot in Edinburgh but it never melted, surprisingly. It may have started out red, but potentially faded color from the sunlight. That was my theory, at least. It lived on the third landing before the final flight of stairs to our apartment. (Yes, we lived four floors up, and it had an additional floor inside. Try climbing that when you’re drunk at 3 am. You won’t even notice your quads burning.)

I noticed the gummy bear on my first day. I felt sad for whoever had dropped it and didn’t get to enjoy the delicious gumminess. But it made for an excellent blog starter – and regular goal to make it up those stairs to see if somebody had collected him for the trash or if he was still guarding our final stretch to our entranceway.

I said goodbye to him when I left; I wonder if he is a white gummy bear now, after all this time of being in the sun.

I found myself again, here. I had lost her; she had retreated, felt neglected, was forgotten; the Jerica who is outgoing and fun, loves to meet people and bring them together, is awkward and determined and a great listener. She was lost somewhere in the whirlwind of fearmonger thoughts and this-is-what-you-are-supposed-to-do emotions. I just hadn’t realized it was a whirlwind meant to be surfed, not lived in.

I found a lot of things on this trip. I found a sweater that I was absolutely sure was lost to the Fringe gods. Shout out to one of my girl crushes – Madi – who messaged the venue I thought I left it at and encouraged me to “just go get it”. (I did get it – I had left it in the Jazz Bar. Twist my arm to get me to go back there 😉). And a funny tangent to this tangent – it is a Fringe (festival) sweater and has the word “Fringe” written across the front in bold, blue letters. Nothing else – just Fringe. Somebody, at some point, told me they thought it was in reference to a kink thing. I laughed, but inside I was definitely thinking, “I mean, theater is a kink thing.”

So yes. Lost the kinky Fringe sweater, got it back. I also lost my Schitt’s Creek sweater- and did not get that back. I hope somebody in London is using it right now and that they are giving Rose Apothecary the appropriate respect it deserves.

Have you ever wondered how shoes end up in the gutter? Or why a single shoe is just lying in the road, mangled and abandoned? Well, I have the answer. I lost my dancing shoes. Heartbreaking, really – or at least as sad as you can be about losing a good pair of shoes. I suppose I could’ve tried harder to get them back – but, I didn’t. (Madi did try to convince me, but the venue was no Jazz Bar). So I had to say goodbye to the most comfortable dancing shoes I’ve ever owned. All because they fell out of my purse-bag at a show at Fringe. I bet the house manager was surprised to find that under a chair, next to discarded programs and stained plastic wine glasses. (Side note: the theater world needs to switch to digital programs. Better for the environment, unless people are actively recycling, and they aren’t, and cheaper for the producers. You’re welcome.)

Listen, I even checked around my chair before leaving, since clearly I am known for leaving stuff behind. I looked, but didn’t see anything that was mine. So, alas, my black, suede 2 inch heel that allowed me to dance for hours with no pain or blisters and made me look just *chef’s kiss*, became a house manager’s. Or not. Maybe it’s still under the folding chair on the second row down from the back wall next to the sound booth. Hmm, doubtful. Anyway.

I did find more than just clothes, and lost more than negative self-perceptions. I found a group of people who are like me. Travelers, curious, spontaneous, planners – I fit in with this group. I found so many girl crushes, a couple romantic crushes (nothing panned out. See prior post). Finding these women and this group of people suddenly made the world feel a little less vast and a little less lonely. I needed to be reminded of that.

And while I did lose a sweater, a shoe, and my umbrella cover, I also lost some self-shame I didn’t even realize I was carrying. So it turns out losing things is not all that bad. And gaining friends, memories, and even a few pounds - is also not all that bad.