Irreplaceable

There are very few things in this world that are truly irreplaceable.  When one of them is lost, stolen or broken, it's a hard thing to take.

When you're a teenager, the first time that you're in an accident all you can think on your way to tell your parents is "Oh hell.  They're gonna kill me."  You tie yourself up in knots.  You sweat.  You know you did...

And you get home and you take that deep breath and you tell them. 

If your parents were normal (which, hey, not all of them are...), they asked if everyone was ok.  And although they were probably upset about the cost of fixing the car, they weren't nearly as upset as the were in the discussion that played out in your mind right after the crash. 

Because you're the thing that's irreplaceable.  Cars... not so much.

Makes sense, right?  But there are other things that are irreplaceable. 

I looked in my purse last evening to make sure I had enough cash to order my kids some pizza for dinner.  Lo and behold, my wallet was gone.  Gone. 

Lost?  Stolen?  Beats the hell outta me. 

Annoying as hell.  I'll tell you that for sure.  Nothing says "super fun" like a day at the DMV.  (Please read that with the appropriate amount of sarcasm.)

But that's not what really bothers me is not the credit cards or the ID or even the cash (though I think there was probably only $30 or so).  It's the little metal card that I have carried in my wallet for 13 years. 

My Pop Pop made it.  He engraved it with all of his grandchildren's names and birth dates on one side and his children and their wives on the other. 

And it's irreplaceable.  It's the only tangible thing that I have from him. 

It's not worth anything to anyone but me. 

But it's worth a lot to me.

**sigh**

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