A Few Words About Those We Have Lost

I have picks. And then I have favorite picks.

A pink one. Soooooo pink! With white stuff scattered in it. Very marble-ey looking. My second favorite.

And a purple one. Just like a usual pick, except for the texture. Not plastic-ey. But velvet! Soft, soft velvet to touch. And just the right color for it. My absolute favorite.

And I lost them.

Among three others. One very thick one and two very thin ones. I kept the 5 outside because I played with them often. My Mom had been noticing them for a few days, thought they were some random pieces of plastic. And today, in a clean-my-room mood, she decided she wanted them cleaned away...

I come home and I see there's no picks where there's always been. I ask Mom. "I threw them", she says calmly. Instantaneously I scream "What!" in uncomprehending disbelief. Mom is taken aback by the sudden outburst. "Why?", she asks, and "Uh-oh!", she thinks. I can only blurt out that they were picks, things you play the guitar with. Mom is apologetic. I close my door.

I'm too stunned to be angry. I don't know what to feel about it. I am sad for having lost my favorite picks and more. I don't have pictures of them to remember them by. So I am also grieving. But what do I feel about Mom??? I'm not mad at her. I don't even need her to apologize. And I don't know what else to feel. And there's a void in my emotional response to this whole thing. I need to feel SOMEthing for this.

Maybe I should cry a tear for every pick I lost. Or maybe I should write a song...