Things I’ve Lost

by Holly Hinson

Photo by Young Kyung Kim on Unsplash

March 26, 2025

Beautiful leather jacket I had begged my dad to buy for me at the mall, when I was 15, at a neighborhood keg party in somebody’s garage. My dream to be a ballet dancer, when I was 11, and the dance instructor gently told me that ballet might not be my thing. My first and only pair of Ray Ban sunglasses to the Atlantic Ocean, on a Florida trip with my sister, 2012.  Marriage #1 – 1989, when I walked out on a Peter Pan husband to take care of our two-year old son shortly after we returned to Kentucky from three years living in Germany. My sister Constance, 61, lung cancer, as she faded away from us in 2022. Her son, my nephew Colin, 33, three weeks later, from suicide. My mother’s respect, after missing my grandmother’s funeral when I didn’t get back in time from a Bruce Springsteen concert. My thrill-seeking gene, after almost dying in class VI rapids in West Virginia on a camping trip in 2003. My perfect pert c-cup breasts, at age 50-something. My first boyfriend, when I was 15, after kissing a neighborhood boy in a spin the bottle game in a friend’s basement. The drama club presidency vote in junior year of high school, but became de facto president by default later that year when the winner quit. My sister’s Jordache jeans I “borrowed” when I spent the night at my friend’s house. My red motocross bike with the cool leather and fringe handlebars at the pool near Ripper Park when I was 10, in Oklahoma City. My mother’s trust, in 1985, when I told my sister my Mom knew where the baby she gave up for adoption, was living.  My insatiable need to have everyone like me, with the passing of years, around 2020. All the color from my world and my mental health, during the pandemic shutdown of 2020-2021. My virginity, in the woods in Fern Creek park, when I was much too young and barely consented.  Trusting my oldest son, after grueling years of his stealing and lying and drug abuse. The chance to go away to college, when I married my high school sweetheart at age 19 and moved overseas. A copy of Little Women, in my 20s, that my mom had written in, telling me I was definitely Jo.

The chance to interview John Cougar Mellencamp backstage for my college newspaper, in 1984 because I froze up, starstruck, and my college friend, Gay, had to ask the questions for me. My dad’s comb from his dresser, around 1982, an offense resulting in a whipping. A term paper I wrote in college about childhood sexual abuse, in which I interviewed my friend Natalie about her uncle.

Marriage #2, 1994, when I left with two small children, after one too many excuses for abuse and alcoholism. My striped tabby cat, Sadie, when she was hit by a car when I was 7.  My dignity, when the German midwife told me you must push now! at my son’s birth in Fulda, 1987. Desire to mountain climb, after reading the book Into Thin Air in 1996. A term paper I wrote in college about childhood sexual abuse, in which I interviewed my friend Natalie about her uncle. Marriage #3, when my military husband cheated in Afghanistan and got the woman pregnant, and came home with divorce papers and PTSD, in addition to my house, job and going to grad school for an MSSW all in a particularly cruel six-month period in 2007. Belief in the Catholic church, when the priest stood up and announced the Vatican’s patronizing position on gays in the church, to pray for those sinners while condemning their sins. My sister’s good pearls she had lent me for my wedding to my second husband, in a hotel room in downtown Louisville. My wallet containing my return bus trip ticket, Spring break in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, 1983, when I drank seven sloe-gin fizzes in a bar with my senior class girlfriends and entered a wet tee shirt contest. The need to please everyone and say yes to everything, about 3 -5 years ago. The belief that most people could recognize stupidity and evil and wouldn’t elevate those persons to the highest elected office in the country, 2016. The ability to drink more than two glasses of red wine without a headache the next day. Ability to stay silent in the face of intolerance, bigotry, ignorance or mean-spiritedness.  Telling the lie that I like to cook or shop.  My belief that I would never find love again.