A scrap of paper

Every so now and again I change out my work bag. I have two that take it in turns, one a chocolate brown leather and the other a Vuitton look alike. They’re both fairly spacious and despite my best efforts the odd scrap of paper does occasionally take up residence in a dark recess.

Yesterdays ragged remnant, scribbled on the back of what appears to have been a grocery list, delivered this ……

Do you think, he said, you might want to love me? Well it was more of a rumble exactly, his voice deep and warm. She reached out and took his hand, pressing a soft kiss on his knuckles. Meaty hands he called them but their strength gave her comfort. The white cuff of his uniform was in stark contrast to his golden hand coloured by hours spent outdoors. She had fought her feelings from that first day when he met her at the country fair. She didn’t have time for relationships and men. She was going to be a politician on Capitol Hill. He’d put his arm around her shoulders and grinned, his green eyes sparkling with knowing. You can be the next president he said, but we are going to be together. A deep sigh brought her hurting back to the present and she slid off the bench, dropping to her knees in front of him. Jessie, she said and he lifted his head,

It was (I think) going to be a short story romance of a headstrong, rebellious girl and her long-time love interspersed with a dose of conflict and separation. A mosaic of snippets of other lives – someday there may even be an ending.

“There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.” Anais Nin

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What’s in a name

said the ill fated Juliet of Shakespearean fame. I say, what’s in a bag or more specifically what’s in my bag?

 The topic of modes of conveyance rose like a bubble of laughing gas over coffee this week. My co-commentator is a mom and she carries a potato-sack of a bag filled with oddities that only moms understand. Wet wipes, hair grips, books, toys of various genres, obscure crayoned drawings and the like. It’s a very elegant bag don’t get me wrong …. just well-sized.

I own four bags (is that a lot?) – small black evening, small black day, small tan day and medium chocolate day. Oh bugger and then there’s my work bag – bought for me some twenty years ago by my mother. A knock-off Louis Vuitton which, given its inauspicious beginnings, has stood the test of time. It is big enough to take folders on a bad day but on a good day it has:-

1 x purse

1 x pencil bag with house keys (office keys live on a lanyard around my neck during the day – boring hey!)

1 x pencil bag with cosmetics (let me tell you, much cheaper than a “cosmetics” bag – you can throw it the machine to be washed)

1 x ipod (a.k.a. saviour of lives when it all gets too much).

1 x notepad and pen

2 cell phones (1 work, 1 personal)

And in the side zipper thing – pepper spray, small change and gum.

A very mundane collection of goodies all in all but I like order (is that a type A personality?), glorified chaos just doesn’t work for me.