The bag is red, and like a red balloon against a clear blue sky, like the red envelopes of Chinese New Year, like the cherries on top of a slice of cheesecake, it stood out from a distance. And even from far away, it captured my heart.
It was to be my new carryall (and I do carry a lot) for work. And yet, months later, I had not taken it to work. Months later, it sat, receipt inside, on the verge of being (if they'd even take it back after so long) returned.
And then, it was suddenly the perfect size for a short trip I was taking, a trip that turned out fabulously. And then, it accompanied me on another trip, and each time I looked at the red, it made me happy, and grateful that I had kept the bag and discarded the receipt.
What I have realized, though, is that maybe it was never meant to be my work bag. Maybe it was never meant to carry the mundane necessities of commuting and long days, to do the schlepping and the practical work. Maybe, all along, it was meant to be a part of the other adventures of my life, to be the appropriately bright accompaniment to my escapes into the world.
The bag is red, and I am finding its place in my life. And I wouldn't have it any other way.