My magic hat
Wednesday afternoon found me running out of my French classroom, sprinting toward the library where I had been before class.
Why? You may ask.
I couldn’t find my hat.
Like many people, I have a hard time keeping track of my mittens. I’m constantly wearing a mismatched pair. But my hat is a little different than my mittens.
My grandmother gave it to me for my 17th birthday and she died a month later. It’s somewhat silly looking. It’s reddish-pink and has a crocheted flower on it. It looks something like THIS.
The really funny thing about the hat is that it actually looks pretty cute on me. But it looks completely ridiculous on almost everyone else. On me it looks what I call “cute ridiculous.” I told one of my friends this tonight and he responded, “Yeah, I can see that.”
People are always nicer to me when I wear it, too. It’s the oddest thing. On the train home for Thanksgiving last year, the conductor struck up a conversation with me all about my hat.
Anyway, the hat has taken on a special meaning for me. And I unfortunately have a history of leaving it places and then being sent into a melodramatic tizzy over it.
Hence my mad dash to the library when I thought I lost it on Wednesday. When I got to the library, it was hanging on the end of the bannister as if someone had left me there.
That’s the truly magical thing about my hat: it always makes it back to me. It doesn’t matter the weird places I leave it; it always makes it back to me.
While I was on a college tour a few years ago, I left it in the admissions office. I called them, in tears, and they immediately put it in the mail.
I dropped it walking home from school my senior year. I found it on the sidewalk, just lying there waiting for me.
I think I’ve used up all of my good fortune keeping this hat. And it’s totally worth it.
Any of you have a magic hat? A magic anything?