Mid-spring, amongst the tiny buds and blossoms sprouting and unfolding on the foliage I have so dearly missed—your image comes to mind. Tall, hefty, a perfect Barney The Dinosaur purple, and equipped with a straw cap—you, my long lost water bottle, who I left so absent mindedly in Olin 223 one late night.

You must know I tried to come and get you. The moment I realized my hands were empty of your touch, I rushed back to the doors of that humanities building and banged on those poor gates in hopes that someone would exit the building and I could sneak back in. As I gave up and sulked away, someone did come out and I screamed so they might keep the doors open. They did not. Instead they were concerned that I had been axe murdered. Visibly upset, I explained my situation to the passerby, and though they did not have any solutions for me, they provided me with an appropriate level of sympathy for a random girl crying about her water bottle outside of Olin at 10:30 (I’ll never forget that stranger, whoever you are).

I came everyday that week looking for you in the lost and found, and you weren’t there.

You weren’t there.

Where were you?

Where are you?

Our days in the sun together were far too few, and though I have a new water bottle, I can’t help but think of you every time I take a sip. Just know that you will never be replaced. My heart will still ache for you, no matter how many water bottles try to replace your perfection. My love for you is eternal, its flame is further ignited by our separation—ensuring that it will burn forever until your handle is, once again, hooked between my thumb and forefinger.

With everlasting love and affection,

Carmel