I ripped my luggage apart. I looked in every nook and crany. Leo was not there.
I racked my brain for when I had him last, and even searched pictures on my phone. He was on the flight to Seoul. I remember putting him in my bag at the Seoul airport, then looking for my phone and realizing in the confusion of the security checkpoint I had left it at security. I remember going to security, then sitting down and… I think he was there. I don’t remember.
I remember that every cart or trolly that moved by was playing Für Elise and it was driving me nuts. I even messaged a friend about the annoyance.
I thought he was on the next plane. I think I remember putting him in my bag, not deep in the bag, but in the front pocket, and I remember checking I did not leave anything behind.
I don’t know. He was not in the hotel room and I had my meltdown.
Yes, I am a rational adult, and I know Leo is a stuffed toy. Of all the things I did leave behind, including my phone and my med cooler – both of which were labeled and retrieved easily – because I missed them and realized they were gone.
I did not hold Leo in the same importance, which was evident by the fact I did not realize he was missing; I did not check for him; I did not look to make sure he was in the bag and with me. He was important, not vital.
Except in that moment when I sat in the hotel room and had never felt so alone.
I talked a lot about packing earlier. About what to take and what to leave behind. I thought a lot about what I would take as a travel buddy and even looked for options on the internet, but in the end, I ran out of time and had this stuffed lion.
I have no recollection of how I came across Leo. I know he was around for a while, and I moved him from place to place debating if he would be a lion I keep or one I would let go.
Recently I bought a metal bi-plane that you put in the yard and it turns with the wind. I don’t have a yard anymore, so I painted it up, put lions on it and gave it a call number, then hung it above my flight simulator in my office. I put Leo in the cockpit. Partly because until I could decide for certain to keep him or let him go, he could sit in his plane and be my copilot.
Then I promptly put aside he was there until I needed a copilot for this trip. I didn’t want to take him. He wasn’t exactly right, and as you have guessed, I was still attached enough to not give him up.
But I did. And now he is gone.
I could mount a grand campaign and contact all the airlines and airports, but I can’t. I can’t face this thing I am doing and panic about a stuffed toy, so I am hoping someone, somewhere will find him. I hope he is traveling the world on new adventures with an appreciative child instead of collecting dust above my flight simulator.
I hope he is okay.
And I understand that he is an inanimate object who has no realization of garbage bin or royal palace. He is not hurting, nor wanting, nor even aware.
I manifested my feelings of comfort; of home; of confidence and fun onto an inanimate object. And then I did not bother to keep those vital and very deep emotional senses in the forefront of my future vision. I forgot and didn’t realize until it was gone.
So, yeah, epic meltdown. Yes, I struggled with fighting to find him or let him go. I tried to distract myself by working on this blog, but his picture is on every page.
In the end, however, I do not know if I am upset for the loss, or upset for my attitude. How many times in life have I dismissed a friend or family member because I was focused on other things. Things I deem vital to my survival, and perhaps in this case my phone and med cooler are vital, but the point is not lost.
What do we lose track of when we are so focused on other things. Do you work so hard you lose your family? Do you become so self focused on your goals you trample others, or worse yet, miss the opportunity to raise others with you? Is there a line where one path destroys another, or can we mix and blend our roads.
So, as you can tell, I’m still moving through this. I don’t know if I will take Leo off the site, but my inclination is to leave him there. He never made it to walk on foreign soil. Although he was probably made in Vietnam, or Korea, or China. Maybe he ran. I would understand that more than me losing track of my only tie to home. I do know every time I see his picture I feel sad, but the feeling will lessen and I will move through. Just as I always do.
I’m going to go to bed. Try to sleep and wake up to a new day tomorrow. A fresh start. Because no matter what, I don’t have a ticket home until April, so I don’t have a lot of choice.
God Speed my little friend.
