Today, my scarf went missing. I got it a year ago in Fethiye, Turkey. I was volunteering on a farm that was far from the city and a girl I was volunteering with came back one day from the city with a purple scarf that myself and the other volunteers loved. Light purple, pink interlaced, light blue. On a day I had off, I made it to the city with a friend, Kerem, a Turkish guy who was volunteering at the farm as well. We had a location from Elvin that wasn’t quite right, so we searched side streets asking in shops if they knew where to go. We found her. A woman with a wild little shop full of Turkish trinkets and a wall full of scarves. She stood with me as I looked at all the colors and had no idea which ones to choose. She pulled all the green, pinks, maybe I don’t want light pink, I like the gold, that’s not my shade of green. Is this shade of pink my color? Is my hair too light to match this shade of pink? I settled on a bubblegum pink interlaced with blue and yellow and a red interlaced with yellow, purple, blue (in the photo). I loved them. I wore them on cold mornings working in the fields of the farm. Planting beans and picking oranges before the sun came over the mountain. I slept with them at night. They smelled like me. I wore the red one on my travel day leaving my farm bubble flying from a local airport in Turkey all the way down to Namibia in southern Africa (airport mirror in the photo above). I slept with them in my months in Namibia. They kept me warm at night on safari. I cried into them when I was hurting. I held them when I needed a hug when I was alone on my travels. They came with me to South Africa. I started to wear the pink one there more than I had before. I met a guy in Namibia that I met again in SA. We sang All Too Well together. A song about a long lost scarf. A friend that I learned a lot from. I lost the pink scarf to him. God only knows where it is in the world now. But I still had my red one. I continued through months of finding myself, talking to God asking Him what He wants me to do with my life, a painful journey and a beautiful one. And a lot of tears into my surviving scarf. It came to Portugal with me, Morocco. And I made friends here who are like brothers. One of them wore my scarf the last few days on our adventures here in Morocco, and yesterday after a wild wild wind storm asked if I got my scarf back from outside. No. This morning, asking again and not finding it outside. I searched the house. And I cried. Not out of anxiety, but out of pain. Maybe it was pain attached to losing the first one. Material things are replaceable, but this one I will only replace with its twin in Turkey.