Posted in Purse

Just In Case

If you hold my purse in your hands, you will see and feel that it is in perfect condition.

The smooth, buttery, soft leather has softened over time.  The gleaming, silver-plated hardware, still pristine.

It’s a black Coach purse that Craig bought me for Christmas six years ago now.  (I have others that I’ve collected over the years, always Coach, that are like new as well, several black, two camel.)

My purse is versatile and practical.

I use the special Coach leather cleaner and conditioner regularly and I treat it ever so gently.

Inside, you will find a Coach wallet (I’m nothing if not loyal), also from Craig, a birthday gift from before we were  even married.  It, too, is like new.

They are classic pieces and have stood the test of time. I have faithfully cared for them and they have stayed lovely.

I would like to say that as a child I had always dreamed of owning a Coach purse, but if I’m honest, I have to say that I knew nothing about them.  Such luxuries weren’t a part of my mother’s world, and as such, they were not a part of mine.

When you grow up with so little, I suspect that nice things carry different meaning.  When you grow up dreaming of living a life that simply allows you enough money to pay the bills, with just a little left over for emergencies, you don’t dream of purses.

Inside my purse is a strange mix of who I was raised to be and the woman I am today.

A silver-plated compact mirror engraved with my name, protected by an ebony velvet drawstring case, a treasured gift from my mother.

Three of Katie’s hair clippies, some stray Cheerios, two small Band-Aids. Leftover restaurant crayons, red, blue, green.

Orange tic tacs.

A Starbucks receipt for a venti black coffee, no sweetener, no cream and a kid’s vanilla steamer, 100 degrees, no sweetener, no whipped cream.

My Tiffany keychain, engraved with my new name, Mom, gifted to me from Craig when Katie was born.  It is scratched and worn, but also strong and beautiful.

And two tubes of Aveeno lip balm, just in case.

Always. Just in case.

This post in response to a prompt by The Red Dress Club and is an exerpt from my work-in-progress.

About me

Nichole Beaudry @NicholeBeaudry Location: Northern California
Each and every day, I strive to appreciate the wonder, beauty, and whimsy in the small moments, the moments that, when strung together, form a lifetime.
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