Have You Cleaned Out Your Bag Lately?
The bag that I carry every day has been feeling heavier recently, even though I haven’t added much to it. Isn’t that strange?
Yunior Rivas
I carry it with me everywhere. It’s nothing special, really. A plain, worn-out backpack with a frayed zipper and straps that dig into my shoulder, as if it’s begging for me to notice how much I’ve been asking it to hold.
You probably have one like it. It’s where we put the things we need, or think we need, or just don’t know what else to do with.
Today, I decided to clean it out. Completely. I dumped the whole thing onto the table. It’s amazing how much can fit into such a small space.
There was a pharmacy receipt. The ink was fading, but the list of items was still legible: a box of bandages, a bottle of melatonin, a tube of lip balm. Essentials, I suppose. But I didn’t really need to keep the receipt for them. I tried to remember the day I bought these things, but all I could conjure was a vague sense of weariness. Am I taking care of myself? Or am I just getting by?
There were many business cards. Dozens of them, scattered, stiff, and sharp-edged still. I picked one up, traced the letters with my thumb. A name, a title, a contact. I remembered the handshake, the smile, the overly practiced exchange. At the time, it felt so important. Now, I stared at the name wondering if they remember me at all. Should I still message them? What if they already forgot about me? Or worse, what if they haven’t?
There was a flyer. Folded neatly, with its corners wrinkled by months of jostling. It was for an event I never attended. A book talk, I believe. I wanted to go, but the night came and went. I can’t remember why I didn’t go. Maybe I got caught up in something else. Maybe I talked myself out of it. What if I had gone? Who might I have met?
There were class notes. These were the most confusing of all. “Follow the money.” “Look for conflicts of interest.” “Translate, don’t dilute.” What does the last one even mean? At some point in my life, I knew what it meant, I guess. It’s funny, we write things down to remember, only to forget them anyway. What else have I forgotten? Why these, of all things, did I try so hard to remember?
My bag holds everything I toss into it without complaint. Sometimes it feels heavier than it should. Maybe I should clean it out more often.
What’s in your bag? What does it hold? Sometimes it gets heavy and so do we.