Lessons from My Worn Luggage: A Journey of Scars and Stories

It’s 4 am and I’m awake – on purpose.

Only two things could make me willingly set my alarm for 3 am: a RunDisney race or a plane flight. In this case, it’s the latter.

I ride the airport shuttle this morning and find myself bleary-eyed, awaiting the caffeine to kick in and staring at my luggage sitting solo on the rack.

“She’s sure has seen better days.” I think.

She used to be a vibrant red fastened with a bright belt of pink, green, and blue stripes to hold her together when particularly stuffed. She was never your typical piece of luggage. Always noteworthy. Always easy to spot among her peers. Always a bit loud. Always fun.

Now she’s worn and faded compared to her former glory.

She lost a zipper pull in Iceland after a traumatic checked baggage experience that she won’t talk about. So now she only zips one direction from top to bottom. She once went to Space Camp without me after she was mis-tagged by a flight attendant and apparently had a grand ol’ time before finally coming home days later. Her fabric handle is dirty, frayed, and singed after nearly catching fire from friction as- unbeknownst to me-  it caught on every seam of concrete and uneven pavement in rural Hungary slowly building heat until it smoked a little when we stopped to cross the street. Her cattywampus telescoping handle has to be pressed with juuuust the right touch to collapse after being attacked by a case of water bottles during a hospital Hurricane overnight Team A experience at work. Her wheels are covered in dust and debris from literally miles and miles of airports and tarmacs and foreign lands.

Basically, Homegirl has seen some stuff.

But this morning – perhaps it is the lack of sleep or the darkness or just that I find myself extra pensive when traveling – I’m thankful for each of her imperfections.

She’s been places. She’s seen things!

Yes, she has scars, but they show signs of life!

Based on the timeline of memorable injuries, I’ve owned this piece of luggage almost twenty years. And we’ve been through a lot together.

She reminds me that I’ve been places. I’ve seen things! I too have scars, but the scars indicate healing. They are signs of life. They are the body (and mind and soul) growing new skin and fascia and tendons and bones and patching to the best of its ability.

I’ve had an almost identical piece of luggage purchased for years now (but this time bright blue!) but it currently lies unused under my bed. Partly because I’m trying to keep it clean and unscathed, but mostly because my little red belted luggage isn’t done yet. She’s got more moxie in her. She’s got more trips to take, more experiences to have, and more stories to tell.

And so do I.