Feeds:Thursday afternoon
- Portraying: Blue Comb '78
- Conveying: Sadness
- Now Playing: "Cheyenne" - Value Pac
- The Saying: "Someone put her out of my misery." - 'Mind Game, Value Pac
- When Praying: That I get my hat back.... and finals, I guess
My childhood fell out of my back pocket today.
I want someone to say to me, "Man, it was just a hat," so I could yell and scream at them, "Do you know know how little past I have? How little history, memory, heritage? Tradition? Do you know how precious these things are to me? How precious the manifestations of these things are to me? That hat was my freaking childhood!"
....and so on. I guess I'm calmer now. There's not much I can do about it. I went up and down the route I had walked since I last knew I had the hat, but it did me no good. Even if I could get another hat like that, it wouldn't be as good. This sucks. I guess now all I can hope for is that, when I come back and read this, I'll remember that hat, nad by remembering that hat, remember the things it meant.The way I used to wear it. The loose string I eventually fixed myself. Playing T-ball, bending the bill, and chewing clover. Walking into Hy-Vee. So much more. The way it got so soft after so much use. I doubt I'll ever have another hat like that one. I guess I'll get over it.
I wish, I pray, I hope that I could have it back. Please.
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