"The Gucci Purse"

"Notes To My Future Self: The Gucci Purse"

There she was...intoxicating in her fresh leather scent--wondrous in her sparkling pewter buckle--playful in her organic fiber weave. Oh, but YES, she had handles. Oh, her HANDLES! They were a feast for the eyes in their perfectly polished coffee bean brown leather. Zippers? She had two. One mere zipper could not hold all her beauty. They were sure to match in their other-worldly pewter sparkle. Could she stand? Oh, COULD SHE stand! She stood on her own, boldly proclaiming her name, and defying gravity to do its best. This was no ordinary purse! This was a GUCCI hand bag! Only a few times in a woman's life, will her fingers dance across the fibers of perfection of a true fashion masterpiece, and those same fingers actually carry it home. Yes, this perfect Gucci purse was mine. Oh, I made sure to carry her with her irresistible buckle label on the outside, for all to silently pause in her Gucci glory. Her power was tangible. I swear I saw women bow their heads to her in admiration and respect, when she silently sparkled by, as if carried on angel's wings. No, indeed this was no ordinary purse. I had reserved a special closet to house Her Majesty, when not in use. (Only because my husband was under the delusion that she didn't need her own vault.) Sure, she saw the light of day. I made sure to strike the delicate balance of flaunt and want. I couldn't over tire her, but of course, she was created to stand in the spotlight. So, as I lay on my bed, my mind runs across the short life of my dear friend, The Gucci Purse. She was the most beautiful and magical of all. When did her life meet such a tragic end? Was it when my three year old grabbed her, forcefully stuffing crackers and small toys into her? The unruly saltines certainly chuckled as they disrespected her perfectly lint-free seams. Was it when one of my one year olds got her, and put her on over their shoe, stomping around like she was some mundane boot? Did she silently shed a tear inside her pristine inner linings? Perhaps it was the day my daughter's sunscreen exploded in the car, and the cruel hand of fate steered the venomous leaking serum onto her luminous outer pocket. It's possible it was when trying in vain to remove the horrific white sunscreen from her perfect pocket, I succeeded in smearing the white ooze all over lovely handles. Oh, that was certainly a crime scene! Sure, I may have looked a bit neurotic putting up the police tape for others to not dare go near her until she had been restored. One could only glance at the horrors of smeared white banana boat dripping slowly with the stench of "coconut breeze" DECAY from her tattered frame. She lay there in shock and shame as the cruel sunscreen desecrated her once glorious frame. Although, it could have been when she was humiliated to become a "grocery bag" for the children to play "store" with. She had so many plastic items entangled inside, that she tore her remaining lining. My daughter actually handed her to me to pretend to be the "bag lady" at the store. Certainly, that stripped away the last of her frail remaining dignity. So, I sit here, and I wonder. Lily is here next to me. Lily is silently opening The Gucci Purse, and closing it. She chuckles as she finds lost treasures inside. Her skin and hair are intoxicating in their fresh-just-washed-baby scent. Her eyes are wondrous to me, as they sparkle, holding the bag just high enough to peak into. Her playful laugh holds my thoughts so often. Her hands? Oh, her HANDS! Chubby, round, being softer than the finest silk, are a feast just to touch, they enthusiastically grip each handle. Every little finger excitedly digs into each crevice for whatever joy they can excavate. Tiny feet? She has two. One mere foot could not hold all her curiosity. Her little piggies ("pippies") wiggle and kick with each giggle she happily emits. Can she stand? Oh, CAN SHE! She jumps to her round little feet, and squeals over her "new" purse!! She is so elated to show it to me. She is finding an infinite amount of pleasure from this one tattered item. This is no ordinary child. This can't be, because she is simply MY child. So, that makes this no ordinary child's toy. This is my child's beloved toy. This is my Lily Belle's "new" purse. It has never looked more beautiful to anyone, than it looks right now. It has never been more wanted. It has never brought so much joy, than it is currently bringing. Watching it through her tiny, perfect hazel eyes, this silly purse has never been more lovely, than it is now--simply because it's in Lily Belle's tiny, perfect hands.