When I was 22 or 23, I decided that I wanted to learn how to fly a plane. I researched it and got lined up with a flight instructor, and started my lessons. The study books came in a blue MEC backpack, easy to carry around. Now, flight lessons are ridiculously expensive, and being the free spirited, starving artist, I had to let it go… but the backpack became a part of my life.
This thing is well-made! I used it for absolutely everything as the years rolled by. I took my lunch to work in it, I used it for outings, I packed it full for traveling… and it survived it all admirably.
My husband stumbled across it and decided it would make a great bag to carry his fresh work out gear in, and it was used for that for a long while, and then this flu season, my son vomited on his school backpack (which was tossed directly into a garbage bag) and we needed another one for him. Except the stores were bare of kids’ backpacks. So guess which bag he inherited?
Walking my son to school in -26C (I just add that because I have that Canadian urge to brag about the cold), I took another look at that bag and all the memories attached to it came flooding back. I never once imagined when I was an eager young woman looking longingly at air planes, that the versatile little backpack would go to school with my third grader one day.
“Or that your third grader would throw up on his other backpack,” my son helpfully pointed out. 😉
I’m almost as attached to that backpack as I am to my third grader. 😉 And to Mr. Johns, of course… Funny how life turns out, isn’t it? It makes me wonder what I’ll look back on another fifteen years from now, how life will have changed yet again, and what seemingly ordinary item around my home will have soaked up nostalgia and meaning.