I have been meaning to put this up for a while - my heather-on-the-moors rainbow hat. It was made for me by a friend, she who also made a shawl of similar hues to sit on my shoulders, and it goes with me everywhere, on my head, apart from when the cold is really perishing in which case I put on the dense brown mohair hat that Son gave me for Christmas. Yesterday, as I sat in a fish restaurant in Worthing, sharing a platter of fish mezze with Mr. Signs, I suddenly became aware that rainbow hat was neither on my head nor by my side or in my bag. I projected myself astrally into the car's interior and did not see it there either. I felt uneasy, this not helped by the huge quantity of fish in front of me - cod, trout, salmon en croute, mackerel, prawns, and this after a mezze starter that included gefilte fish, deep fried calamari, halloumi and feta cheese salad. Plus, there was a giant-sized bowl of deep sizzled chips. It was all fabulous and all too much, and the too muchness of it had the effect of making me lose my appetite. I needed a double espresso after just to help digest the thought of it all, and I kept thinking about my hat. Cold rain bucketed down on the way back to the car and hat wasn't there. It's probably back in the flat, said Mr. Signs, but I remembered leaving with it on my head and I remembered taking it off in the car when I felt too hot. If I were a detective or investigative journalist (thinking about the Dragon Tatoo one) I would be one of those who needed ample time to just sit, think and allow whatever was living in the ether to speak to me. I don't know what made me unbuckle my seat belt and get out of the car. There on the roof of it sat my hat, no worse for the rain and smiling at me in a peep-oh kind of a way. Some good person had put it there. A bit mysterious, but that's how it is sometimes with these special things. My son, aged seven, nearly lost a much-loved cap (also rainbow, very faded) on Brownsea Island. But someone found it on a bit of deserted beach and handed it in to whoever was in charge, and one way and another it got back to us. Who says that things aren't people too?
9 comments:
Rainbow and rosette!
Oh, the relief.
We lose so many things we can't find again, so to find the lost dear darling--whatever it is--seems like grace.
Some things are so personal, they just belong back with their person.
A magical hat ! Sounds a bit fishy to me :O)
yes these separations are agonising, reunions deeply rewarding. almost worth the losing to experience the renewed love and appreciation the finding kindles...tis a great hat!
Mim, I have been reading Elizabeth Bishop's 'Art of Losing' poem :)- but some things, as
Zhoen says, just belong with us.
Cusp, we were the fishy ones. You never heard of a magic hat?
Fire Bird, tis!
How wonderful for your hat to find its way back to you. I lost my nice black and silver hat in December. It was more fashion-y than sentimental but I like it. I'd left it behind in places a few times before but always found it again, or someone had put it aside. I've tried to find another one like it but alas, no. And I really could do with a nice hat to cover up those greying roots.
Digi, that's also one of the functions of my hat!
I have toured the countryside with various objects on the top of the car, or on the front or rear bumper: hats, keys, tennis shoes, cups filled with coffee, and dead birds.
How desperately that hat must love you!
Montag, what a lovely thought - and how good to see your wise face in these parts again.
I still can't properly work out how it got there, though. It's like one of those conundrum games people make up where you have to work backwards to find the answer.
Post a Comment