Silver Ring with Light Green Stone

Most of mom's jewelry was stolen long ago by robbers watching her comings and goings as they replaced roof shingles on the neighbor's house. She is elderly now and has been giving my three sisters the last few pieces she has each year, things that were missed by the thieves. Perhaps thinking I'd feel left out, she gives me a trifle too sometimes.

She had to go into the hospital this Christmas, alerting us to her mortality.

I entered her house alone to fetch her a sweater and saw an envelope addressed to me with holiday stickers all over it. I opened it to find an old silver ring with a translucent pale green stone; inside the envelope it read "Maybe a pinkie ring?"

I was very touched and wondered if this might be the last Christmas gift I would receive from her. Blurry minded, I put the ring and envelope in my pocket, and toyed with the ring and my coins the rest of the day.

I lost the ring soon after. I am very disheartened, but still have the envelope with her note and stickers on it.

Last seen in Redlands, California, on January 3, 2008.

Drewl, Chicago, Illinois

Black Kid Fur-Lined Gloves

My father took a tracing of my hands with him to Hungary and came back with these beautiful gloves for me. They kept my hands toasty through 2 1/2 nasty Canadian winters, but one day, as I rode the train from school to meet the man who would eventually become my husband, they were lost. Equivalent exchange, perhaps?

I kept checking with the lost and found, but wasn't overly shocked that they were never turned in. I hope they were picked up and loved by someone who really needed them.

Last seen January 8, 2003, at the Bay subway station.

ja'ne, Toronto, Canada

Bodum Traveler's Mug

Beautiful Bodum traveler's mug; clear plastic with French press and rubber grip. Lovely to see tea leaves floating.

I gave it to my boyfriend to keep while I went on a school field trip. He left it somewhere. It is ironic because he gave it to me as a present for starting freshman year and keeping warm; he who giveth loseth also. I quickly forgave him. It will take lots more than losing a mug to lose me.

Last seen 2007, MIT campus, Cambridge, MA

Yellow Sheaffer Pen

When I was nine years old, my family presented me with a yellow thick-nibbed Sheaffer pen on my birthday. For me, the pen symbolized several rites of passage. It was the first 'adult' present I ever received. It was the first present to codify my decision that yellow, not red, was my favorite color. The pen came at the perfect time, as I was transitioning from using pencils to ink in school and was the only kid in class to have a "real" pen, not the disposable Dollar ink pens handed to most young Pakistani students (for that reason, I credit the pen for instilling some long-standing intellectual pretensions and predelictions in me). I developed my signature as it currently is using that pen. I wrote my first 'A' grade essay using that pen. I signed off on my first Valentine's Day card using that pen. I literally wrote myself into existence using that pen. And then, in 1993, just before leaving for a summer vacation, I stowed the pen away safely, somewhere, perhaps in a drawer, or a shoe box, or my father's filing cabinet, or a carton, or perhaps even an empty tin of Quality Street chocolates. I never saw my yellow Sheaffer again.

Last seen in Karachi, Pakistan, 1993.

Huma, Cambridge, MA

Briefcase

When I graduated from college, my grandfather insisted I have a briefcase. His gift was incredibly sweet and thoughtful but I never had much use for a briefcase, especially such a traditional style. I kept the briefcase for a few years, but when I was getting ready to move from California to Boston, the briefcase joined the garage-sized pile of other objects I had to trash, sell, or give away. The briefcase was donated, among many other things, to the Salvation Army, where I hoped it would make its way to someone who would actually have use for it. That was almost two years ago. My grandfather died recently and all I can think about is that briefcase.

I'm interested in the irrational affection we feel towards inanimate objects as well as the narrative and meaning that get attached to this otherwise mundane stuff over time, thanks to who we got the object from, or who we were with when we purchased or found it, what our life was like at the time, what it's like now, and where we've been in between, all of which is carried on in the object, regardless of whether it still exists or not. Creating a virtual memorial for my lost briefcase is the least I can do to honor my grandfather's gift, while, to some extent, confessing my guilt over getting rid of it.

Last seen August, 2005, in Oakland, California

Becky writes from Boston, where she spends a lot of time mulling over the way we deal with memory, loss, technology, and community.