Sharing a home with an addict in active addiction eventually leads to many, “lost,” items. Most of them mean the world to you. However, they just disappear never to be found again. As if little fairies swept through your house caring off anything of monetary value. The thought of you missing these, usually sentimental, items is of no consideration to the fairies. They want what you have, so they take it. To you the trinkets are more than just, “stuff,” they are memories of people you love and the good times you’ve shared.
We are taught not to live in the past. We are told not to value material things because we can’t take them with us in the end. Well, I disagree. I loved all my, “lost,” valuables. And I know they were sold to random people for drug money. For drugs I never even got to enjoy. But, the aftermath of destruction my, “lost,” things paid for I definitely was privileged to.
The ideal I did not realize at the time was I had to experience the low we lived in to appreciate the high we live in now. Today, I still miss the precious trinkets we, “lost,” along the way. I am wiser for it, though. Now, I appreciate everything I receive. Not long ago we moved back to my hometown. For a month I spent Saturdays with my grandmother. We ran errands and fixed things around her house. The last weekend, before she went into the hospital, she gave me many of her precious trinkets. It occurred to me as I placed them on display in our dinning room, everything comes around. If Big D was not an addict in recovery I never would have moved home. I never would have had those precious Saturdays with my grandma. The time I am allotted to spend with those I love is my most valued treasure, one which can never be, “lost.”