You have left me behind before, you never dreamed I would be returned
And like then, I will find you again.
I am not lost, I am just mislaid.
(When I was not yet of this world, my Mother’s favourite Uncle, is how she told it, made a ceramic pottery owl coin bank. When I was born, my name and birthdate were inscribed on the back of it, before it was shellaced. That owl is in a box of fragiles I had to leave stored in someone elses home. It is safe and will again be with me, when I have a room of my own to place it watch over. This item is my greatest material treasure, and not a day has gone by in 2 months that I haven’t regretted not holding that box on my lap for the long ride here.)