Have you seen my meteorite?It’s round, about the size of a softball. It’s brown with a rough surface. It’s very heavy for its size.It came from space maybe millions of years ago.And I’ve …
Have you seen my meteorite?
It’s round, about the size of a softball. It’s brown with a rough surface. It’s very heavy for its size.
It came from space maybe millions of years ago.
And I’ve managed to lose it.
I found it when I was a child at my uncle’s farm in a field that had just been plowed. The field was full of them. I’m not sure who first discovered them or when, but I remember being amazed by the thought of it.
Dozens of meteorites had been collected from that field at that time, but I recall mine being the biggest. Most others were the size of golf balls. The majority were round, but some were oblong.
I’ve always liked to tell myself this particular meteor shower happened before humans walked the earth — maybe even during the formation of the universe.
It always made me feel connected to something bigger, in a strange way.
But most of all, I liked it because I had my very own meteorite and no one else did.
I hadn’t thought about it in years until the other day when it came up in conversation. The person I was talking to seemed to have a genuine interest in seeing it.
So, I started looking for it.
I casually looked here and there. I looked in a couple of closets. I looked in Grant’s old rock collection from his childhood.
I looked in the filing cabinet under M.
That’s obviously not true. I am not organized enough to file things alphabetically — which you already knew because I can’t even hold on to a dang meteorite.
I kept thinking it’s just going to show up on a knickknack shelf somewhere or out in the garage in a box.
But now, I’m starting to lose hope.
I’ve gone back and forth on what I want to believe happened to it.
Most of me still thinks it’s hiding in plain sight somewhere around the house. Part of me thinks it got taken to school for extra credit and never made it back home. Part of me thinks it got thrown away by accident.
All of me wants it back.
I’ve written before about losing things — pocketknives, in particular.
I hate to lose something. I inherited that; I can’t help it.
Mama once lost her credit card. She turned the house upside down looking for it. She sifted through the garbage.
As I recall, it caused upheaval in my house for several days, if not longer.
Years later, the card turned up inside a plastic folder which sat on a bookshelf in the den and held the family roadmap collection.
You know, the ones from Gulf that never got folded back the right way.
The mystery of what happened to the card got solved. But the mystery of how it got there never unfolded.
She didn’t find it. It found her.
I’m hoping for the same ending to my missing meteorite mystery.
Maybe it’s somewhere absurd like under the truck seat or in the deep freeze.
But I’m not going to look for it anymore. When it’s ready to be found, maybe it will find me.
It’s a million years old. Surely it can stick around a while longer.
(About the writer: Barry Currin is founder and president of White Oak Advertising and Public Relations, based in Cleveland. “Stories of a World Gone Mad” is published weekly. Email the writer at firstname.lastname@example.org.)
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