My Backpack

I have this thing with backpacks.  Something about carrying it around… to school, up mountains…  it pretty much goes wherever I go.  So in my eyes it’s understandable to have such a strong attraction to that canvas bag that I just can’t get rid of it.  It’s like a blanket for big kids.

In elementary school (third grade I think) I got a purple Eastsport backpack.  And I used that backpack until my Junior year of high school.  I loved that backpack.  I retired it from use the day after the entire bottom ripped open disposing of all of my school books, lunch, and gym clothes onto the floor as I entered school one day.  That was a very sad day indeed*. 

I found a new backpack, but just couldn’t bear parting with the purple one I loved so much, and so I put it in the back of my closet.  Today I opened my closet, and there it was, waiting ever so patiently for me to pick it up and put it to use again.

As soon as I picked it up I remembered why I kept it all these years**.  It’s incredible how many memories came back, and how many pieces of my past are glued into the seams.

The ballerina nametag.

The cloth ribbon marker from Science O.

The first “youth group” bracelet I made on the Gulkana.

First aid materials crammed into the side pocket, complete with bungee cord.

An assortment of pens, pencils, and markers poking through the one pocket with a broken zipper.

The remains of a squished banana***.

Enough hand-warmers to last a whole trip.

This backpack screamed “Emily.” 

And so today I sewed it up, good as new****!  And tomorrow it will accompany me into Hatcher’s Pass, it’s first journey since reincarnation.

*Not embarrassing or anything, I got to school early so it’s not like anyone saw, but it meant the end to my favorite accessory of all time.

**Aside from the fact that it was in the back of my closet and I forgot it was in there.

***Gross I know.  This banana was squished and molded years ago, and I cleaned out the pocket it happened in when I first discovered the banana.  There was nothing more really left now, but I still didn’t dig around in that pocket all too much out of fear.

****Minus one side of a broken buckle.