The worn leather backpack
I found myself in Washington, DC, during spring break my senior year of college. A friend picked me up at Union Station and took me on a midnight drive of the monuments.
It was love at first sight.
That week, I focused on interviews and getting acquainted with my future home. I also splurged on a brown leather backpack.
It may have been the best purchase I ever made.
I carried my books in in my last few months of school. I lugged it everywhere my first summer in DC.
It has faithfully protected my photography equipment and precious journals. And it’s traveled the bowels of X-ray machines in more than 25 airports and crossed the Atlantic 10 times.
This bag has seen boyfriends my parents never knew of. At one point or another, all of my friends have commented on it. It’s been with me from job to job, apt. to apt.
The bag looks as if it’s seen war. Well, maybe not a war, but it’s witnessed a number of battles.
The leather is splotchy and some of the stitching has begun to unravel. All considering, it’s in pretty good shape.