all that stuff, all that baggage {sunday scribblings}
I have caught a glimpse of her at different moments of my life. I think it began when I was about three or so; I would be walking and suddenly she would be there. I remember seeing her skipping down a sidewalk, arms waving in the air as she sang to a song in her head. On another day, when I was about five or so, she was sitting up in a tree with a little lunchbox balancing next to her and she was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I must have been about nine the first time I saw her with more than just that lunchbox. She was carrying a huge tote bag that seemed to be filled with lots of stuff and was much bigger than her little shoulders could hold. She still smiled and waved though.
A few years later, I came across her in the middle of a rainstorm. She didn’t have on a raincoat and stood on a street corner shivering. She was wearing a backpack and carrying that tote. Before I could ask her if she needed any help, she hopped on a bus and was off once again.
For a while, I kept looking for her, hoping she was fine and that maybe the bus had taken her someplace that felt like home. And one day my question was answered. There she was, standing on the shores of a lake, smiling. She was wearing the backpack still and carrying the tote bag. And she had a little suitcase next to her. But she looked happy and content.
About 10 years ago, I remember seeing her in the middle of an airport. She had a trunk, two suitcases, a backpack, and a basket on her head. She was carrying at least six of those tote bags and a huge purse. I just stood there watching her pull it all through the terminal. “How were they ever going to let her get on that plane?” ran through my head over and over for weeks after that. At the time, I didn’t even think about how odd it was that she didn’t use one of those carts or ask someone to help her.
A few years ago, she was sitting on the trunk with four suitcases, about eight tote bags, and two backpacks surrounding her, her face buried in her hands. The little lunchbox was tumbled over to one side. My heart ached for her, but I was too shy to comfort her. I wish I could have told her that it would be okay and that if she wanted, she could just get up and leave it all there, taking only what she needed. Taking only what she wanted to bring along to that next minute, day, year, lifetime. I wish I could have told her that she could just walk away from it all.
About a year later, I thought I saw her out of the corner of my eye getting ready to climb up on a merry-go-round. But by the time I turned my head, she was gone.
And last year, well, last year was different. I stumbled across her in the middle of a spring day. She was sitting on a rock along the sea. All she had with her was the little lunchbox and her backpack. She was clutching them both to her and sobbing. Not wanting to disturb her, even though I knew I might actually be able to talk to her this time, I tiptoed away quietly.
Well, lately, we have been running into each other quite a bit. Sometimes she just waves as she sits amidst wildflowers watching hummingbirds zoom over her head. Other days, over her shoulder she carries a curly willow branch with a bandana tied around the end. “Must be full of the important things,” I think to myself when I see that indigo blue bandana. There are some days when she has that backpack again and a suitcase or two at her side. And when I catch her eye, she just looks at me and shrugs her shoulders with a “doing the best I can” look on her face. Then she wheels the suitcases away.
It’s kind of nice knowing she is out there somewhere figuring it all out as she goes.
(to read about more baggage, click over to sunday scribblings)
liz lamoreux
Reader Comments (27)
That is beautiful! I love the little air of mystery. Little? And that shrug at the end. Aren't we all doing just that? The best we can? Beautiful piece. Thank you.
That's lovely. It makes me think that perhpas "she" is a reflection of yourself. Or am I off beam there?
That was captivating. It's striking how more abstract writing so often feels more true to life.
and it's nice that you are trusting her and giving her the permission and time and grace and love she needs to figure it all out.
catherine - you are not off a beam at all...
I thought this story was fantastic and very creative. Kudos!
I Loved this piece, the mystery of it all, the decision not to speak to her. Oh, its just fantastic, a wonderful piece of writing.
i loved the gentleness here - the idea that leaving her alone to figure it alol out is the only way to do things... but I would have liked to have walked with her and carried her bags for a little while! Love to you, my friend!
This is a beautiful story, Liz.
This brought tears to my eyes
fabulous read sweetie!!!
you are the mysterious girl in the story....we all are
*take a bow* Bravo ;)
xxx dar
This is lovely and it made me want to cry a little; maybe because I know her too.
i love this story, the thread that has run through your life since you were a little girl......there will be a next time and again after that. i look forward to hearing about that meeting.
I love your story -- a bit of us all? Well done!
Liz, this is AMAZING!!!! You are such an wonderful, artful writer my dear, I am always in awe of you!!! I have seen her in you :)
Hope to see you soon!!
XOX-Leth
bravo! waht a beautiful story and I jsut love reading your entries.
Oh I love her-the lunchbox-how she kept carrying more and more and how now her load has lightened.
I loved this...and the mystery you write with so well.
I can't stop wishing I could take a yoga class of yours.
I have to give you a call-hope I get a chance tomorrow
Loving you
This was so mysterious and beautiful....you are such a taleneted writer...such a way with words. i read this over a few times and each time I did, I got so much more about of it...simply beautiful :)
Glad to hear *her* load has lightened in recent years ;-)
Lovely story!
I like how you suggest that sometimes the baggage is helpful. I think it is too...just all another part of what makes us who we are.
Very clever writing.
Beautiful post as always. You are such a gifted writer.
liz, I love this. You should send it off to a publisher of children's picture books! Wouldn't it make a wonderful picture book???
Wow, Liz, that was terrific! I loved it! I have to admit... I didn't catch on RIGHT away, I thought maybe she was going to be an adventurer alter-ago, off on her voyages, and I guess in a way she was, but all those piles of baggage would hinder anyone. Love the last bit, the little indigo bandana on a willow switch. What a wonderful image! Beautiful writing, sort of mystical!
this was perfect...
enigmatic
and intriguing.
:)
This is so beautiful and mysterious. I love the part at the end where she is sitting with the willow branch and bandana and the line, "must be full of important things." Very beautiful
I loved reading this story...or mystery. I kept trying to figure out who she is and what was in those bags, lol. Then I thought, well maybe we are not suppose to know and that is the point. :)
Your a great story teller!
a.