We are moving in two weeks. And in my frenzied attempts to clean and purge things I no longer use, I came across my old red suitcase. My parents had bought it for me in 2005 before my semester abroad – they said I needed a ‘good set of luggage.’ At the time it had two other luggage mates of different sizes, but this is the only piece I have left. 

I drug it downstairs to check its contents – three maternity bras and an old pair of jeans. Everything smelled musty, like it had been sitting in a damp attic for a decade. I put the suitcase near the door and told Flynn to toss it since the main zipper is broken and the wheels don’t spin properly anymore; it’s like a grocery cart that rolls every way except the way you want to go.

I stared at it for a while as it sat with a pile of other things destined for the trash.