Ragged

I have always been one of those people who carries or wears a beloved
object until either it falls apart or those around me beg for it to be
put out of its misery. For example, back in 1999-2000, I had this
favorite skirt. It was a black, floor length nylon mixture. I wore it so
often that I'm pretty sure it was paper thin. I'm killing my Mary
Poppins of a purse in much the same manner. Holes have been worn in its
bottom, and the straps are almost threadbare. I just can't give it up
though. It fits perfectly over my shoulder and always seems to expand to
carry just what I need.
I'm reminded of these things as I sit here at Reagan National staring
down at my suitcase. It occurred to me that I have an emotional
attachment to this suitcase. Even though the pop-up handle is bent and
requires a herculean effort to get up and the top strap has been pulled
off, it remains my suitcase of choice for most trips. This bag has
weathered many an adventure with me, whether it be a marathon train ride
to Nova Scotia or a simple flight throwing me into the political
trenches of a party convention. It still bears the scars of Thailand and
Taiwan where they tape your suitcase closed once you get through
security.
I guess you could say that once I form an attachment I have problems
letting go. Haha.
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