Pieces from the Past

I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I never seem to fully clean out old purses.

For years, it seems I have operated under the delusion that I am purse switcher, as in someone who owns several purses and pulls the right one out for the occasion. While I do own 2 bags that I do do this with (a pretty little black one for special occasions and a woven basket looking one for things like the beach or Pimlico) the truth is, once I empty a bag out and shove it away into my closet, it remains there, forgotten, until the one that took its place joins it.

A year or two ago I finally got rid of some, keeping only a few small sentimental ones, the 2 previously mentioned, and 2-3 bigger bag like ones I was convinced (still am) I can use for something.

I'm in the process of finally finishing unpacking, and I have come across the box with such bags in it. I've decided to get rid of one. I don't even really remember using the bag and am not sure why it didn't go out with the others a few years back. It is pink with two short handles. It kind of resembles a small duffel bag actually. It has 3 pockets on the outside with buckles on them, but the buckles are just for show. Velcro holds them shut. I do remember Chris thought this feature was "disappointing."

I tossed it into the good will bag and started unpacking the others, only to realize there was all this stuff in them. Change, old receipts and coupons, hair ties, old debit cards ect. I can only assume I left some of it in there thinking I was going to use the bag again shortly come next season or month. Most of it was trash, but some of it, like the card with my bank account number on it, I'm not sure why else it would have been left in there. (This goes for old wallets too.)

Anyway, I figured I should check the pink bag just in case. In it I found a stack of cards almost 2 inches thick. Business cards and "buy 10 gelatos get one free" cards. Clearly I wanted to keep these, but I guess I never needed them. Then there was a bouncy ball and a rock.

The bouncy ball I have a vague memory of. It came from a machine that did a trick with the ball before spitting it out. We paid the quarter to see the trick, not acquire the ball, but I remember the moment and the feeling, and how afterward as we were walking to the car we bounced it and chased it and fought over it like small children because we felt goofy and had nothing else better to talk about. I remember smiling, rolling it in my fingers, basking in my silly sense of accomplishment. As the victor, I shoved the ball into the side pocket of my purse to keep Chris from stealing it. There is has remained.

The rock I don't remember as well. I do remember holding it in my hand before. Feeling its odd shape, the strange cleft. It kind of looks like a tooth. The location I got the rock from was important to me at the time. Not big event important, but I was having a good day and I wanted to keep the rock to remember.
I don't remember why I was happy or where I was, just the feel of the rock in my hand.

The purse is empty now, back in the goodwill bag, but I enjoyed the little hidden treasures I found within. Surely a rock and a bouncy ball (probably not worth the quarter I paid for it) perhaps are not all that valuable in the general market, but the two little memories of fun and happiness that I derived from them, brief and incomplete as they were, were quite priceless.

I didn't know what to do with the two items. It seemed silly to display them out on the dresser, but the goodwill bag didn't seem right either. So, I have tucked them away inside one of the other purse pockets, to perhaps, one day, be found again.