The Small Suitcase

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I often think of luggage – and wonder how far it’s been?

This inaninmate object is something I’ve been passed on by my in-laws. Apart from my husband – it’s one of the most useful items I’ve ever possessed; and certainly one I’ve spent the most time with.

Carrying my identify from Heathrow to Who Knows Where, I feel reassured every time I clap eyes on it at baggage reclaim.

Inanimate but calling me, I frequently push past small children to grab this from the moving belt.
Quickly before it goes, taking my toothbrush and make up, vest and necklace with it.

It carries my stuff, to make me whole and at home in another world.

Yet, it’s travelled journeys I will never know!

It lived a life before I wrote my name on “return to this address” label.
It’s been in planes and luggage carts, transfer trains and luggage holds that I will never see.
And it will live past me.

Even after its last plane ride, trusty, grubby synthetic fibres will outlast me in the darkness, buried in a landfill.

Funny, that.

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