This is just a snippet of a memory. Another of my earliest. I’ve been dropped off at the babysitter’s house to spend the night. I’m being babysat by the older sister(s) of Jim’s elementary school friend. One of them must be a teenager, so when I do the math in my head, that makes me between five and seven years old. I have no idea why I am staying with them overnight.

What I remember is my suitcase. It’s the first time I have a suitcase. That I packed. From research/googling, I guess it was a “train case”, a little handheld thing, not much bigger than a shoebox, that a fancy lady would keep her makeup and gloves in in a fifties movie. I’m sure it was from the luggage my mom got when she went to college, or got married. It would be the perfect size for a little kid to pack his PJs and a stuffed animal in. Probably a change of clothes. It’s blue, and hard-shell on the outside. The inside lining is silky, if not silk. I have no idea what I put it in, but I remember it feeling so official that I had my own luggage. I played with the metal latch, and listened to it’s satisfying spring “clack” as it snapped open or closed.