Suitcase.

Life is a journey. You’re always on the move, best foot forward, and a suitcase packed up with memories of the time way back when.
We stroll with acquaintances, lightly taking in the weather, and we wave cheerily as they bend down the next road.
Our friends, they come a bit further, until a crossroads, a reckoning. An argument about a life choice, a transfer to another state, a baby, a new life maybe, and so we part, and readjust our load.
Our lovers, they stay and sometime leave, at which point? we don’t know. Maybe at a fountain, maybe at a street, maybe they up and vanish the moment we bend to lace the ribbon at our feet.
But still we keep moving, dragging that suitcase along. As pit-stop to milestone, it gathers more and more. Baggage. They call it with an accent and a sneer to the ‘b’. Through the rain, through the snow, through the sand that gathers at the shore, we keep dragging, lugging it along.
In it, our precious belongings, the smiles of our parents, the laughter of friends we lose to find, and the sweet, sad echoes of those we left behind.

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