They lost my clothes and I can’t think about anything else. How can I write when all I can think about is where are my clothes?
I read the instructions carefully for checking out and followed the steps exactly. I put my keys in the drawer, cleaned up all the trash and recyclables and put my luggage out on the porch. The luggage consisted of two suitcases and a large clear trash bag filled to the top with all my dirty laundry from the week. All suitcases and whatever else, were tagged with the appropriate tag identifying the room number, including the big trash bag. I thought carrying the trash bag to the car would be a good idea but the bag was heavier then I expected and the car was a ways away. My partner insisted that leaving the clothes on the porch would be fine and even remarked, “Stop being so controlling, haven’t you learned anything by being here?" I guessed he was right and what could really happen.
Packing, getting dressed and cleaning the room took more time than expected. The dining hall would be closing soon and there is no way I was willing to start my day without breakfast. This meant I probably would be late for class and I was. Walking as fast as I can through the gravel parking lot I see the platform ahead full of luggage waiting to be picked up by their lawful owners. As I get closer I see my luggage, “but wait, where's the trash bag full of clothes?" I am already late but can’t resist my controlling nature to find out why the clothes bag is missing? I go up to the Omega staff that are in the middle of their morning stretching exercises and ask if all the bags are there and were there more coming?
The one staff member seemed confused. “We will be picking up bags all morning and we only did one pick up.”
“But you wouldn’t separate someone’s luggage, would you?” I asked.
“No, of course not!’’ said the attendant.
“Well, I see two of my suitcases, but there was also a large bag of laundry that was also left next to them with a tag tied to it.
“Okay, we didn’t see that,” said the staff member.
“Well,” I said, trying to stay calm, “that bag has all my clothes in it.”
“Well, maybe you left it in the room,” he said.
“No, I left it on the porch.”
“Well, maybe housekeeping picked it up by mistake,” he said.
Now my NYC metro area personality started to show as I responded, “Is someone going to help me find my clothes or do I have to go and ask someone else?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” the young man replied, “it has to be somewhere. What is your room number? I am sure we will find it.”
“Oak-C,” I replied. “Please help me by finding my clothes.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, “we will find it.”
Now I am even later for class and obsessed with the fear of them not finding my laundry, plus the idea of someone going through my laundry is also not comforting. I feel a bit of panic in my chest as I get closer to my workshop and now I have to write. How do I switch off my panic and turn on my brain or heart or both? Then a voice comes through my head, “Let go, just let go.” Okay, okay, I can let go, right?
After a week of rest, laughter, writing, meditation, music, friends, yoga and later today a massage, I must have learned something. I hope I learned something. Something I can use in my life, something that will help me love others. I hope to be able to go home with new attitudes toward being positive and healthy. Well, if not I will just have to come back. Back to remember what is important. Memories.