Ramsackle, you were a good word. I’d even go so far as to say that you were among my most-used words. You were the first word I sought out when I wanted to convey finding, taking, or stealing. You were the word I used when I was feeing lighthearted or silly. But today, I’ve found out that you are not a word.
I was writing an innocent note to my roommates when you were stolen, dare I say ramsackled, from my heart. I had suggested that we ramsackle a vacuum so as to clean our disgusting apartment. Along the way, I googled your spelling to see if I was doing you a disservice. “Did you mean: ramshackle?” Google asked me mockingly. But no! Ramshackle was not what I meant. It was you I was looking for, ramsackle. You, who had served me so diligently for lo these 18 years! It was you, not ramshackle, who ramsackled my heart.
I feel, somehow, betrayed by you, ramsackle. Betrayed by you, but also betrayed by society. Why couldn’t society accept you with the openness and love with which I so clearly have? Why can’t people see that you are such a good word? After all, everyone knew what I meant when I said you! Like susurrus, you sound like your meaning. You’re vaguely onomatopoeic in the nicest way.
You’ll be missed, ramsackle. You’ve left an unfillable hole in my vernacular and in my heart.