Losing

I was in Galway over the weekend for my lovely friend Luc's birthday party.

On the way back, I had a dodgy, overpriced breakfast (at about half four, but a breakfast nonetheless) at a large café on shop street.

We had to run to get the bus and in the rush, although I managed to get the best milkshake of my life, I left one of my bags behind me.

Inside there was:

• A pair of jeans I got for a fiver in Penneys about 18 months ago. They never fit me. The zipper was held up with an elastic band and the waist was tied with old ribbon at the back to make sure they didn't fall down. But I loved them.

• A half bottle of horrible seven euro red wine. Probably a good thing I lost that, cos I would've drank it and regretted it.

• My 24 pack of Crayola I got on the way to NYC.

It sounds silly, but I feel like those crayons have been with me through thick and thin.

I used them to make track-listings for CDs I made for my French friend and many other friends beside.

I used them to make birthday cards for my nearest and dearest.

I used them to count off the days I had to go until my exams ended.

I used them to encourage myself to not contact my ex. Each day I managed to not contact him, I would make a mark. The small satisfaction I got from making these marks and counting them up was enough to make me get up and face the world.

In recent weeks, I haven't been using them so much.

But I still feel a bit lost without them.

I could buy a new packet, I suppose. But I don't know if it'd be the same.