Breaking Up is Hard To Do

This week, I took a major step in my personal life. I broke up with my purse. It was large and boxy, made of soft, colorful canvas. I bought it last summer, and it lasted me through many milestones in my life. It had become like an appendage and was by my side through my engagement, my first year of grad school, and almost eight months of marriage. It's in most of our honeymoon pictures, a small stripe of green and white stretched across my body. It was cavernous and could easily fit my camera or a small shopping bag, in addition to it's everyday contents.

But, it was time to move on. Eventually the dirt began to show, and I wasn't proud of it anymore; it began to feel kind of ugly. Even my mother, the least-critical person in the world, would say every time she saw me, "Honey, when are you going to replace that purse?"

Goodbye, old friend.
Enjoy your stay at the retirement home (a.k.a. Goodwill).

I was at Target the other day, and I decided that this was the day to move on. So, I hesitantly walked down the aisles of purses until I found one that I could get used to. It's smaller, less summer-y and, dare I say, more mature(?). I'm still getting used to the new one. I keep forgetting that I have to unbutton the top (unlike my old one), and I'll mindlessly try to jam my hand in there when the flap is closed, without success. Its belly is much smaller, too, but that's probably a good thing; I really didn't need to haul a knapsack around with me.

Mama's got a brand new bag.

When you get a new purse, it's a little hard to let go of the old one because of all the memories it symbolizes. This new purse will carry me through my second(!) year of grad school, my one-year anniversary, graduation, and my first real job. I'm ready to start that journey.