I take it with me whenever I travel. It’s 18 x 14 x 8 inches, black and generic looking. It has wheels so I don’t have to carry it in my arms and so it can trail two feet behind me. This is so it doesn’t feel heavy although now it feels just like an extension of my body. I never leave my bag unattended, mostly because I can’t. It feels like a burden.
I’m sure everyone has some variation of the same contents, but these are definitely mine. There are two things in my carry on: my dignity and my self worth (this one takes up the most space).
Most of the time I need a man to help me put my carry on in the overhead bin. But sometimes, when my suitcase is less heavy and I’ve been working out for a few weeks, I can lift it myself.
There’s a lock on the suitcase. A small, brass padlock from a travel store (so it works). I don’t know who has the key anymore. Maybe it’s my dad who told me not to let a guy pay for a date because than there would be “strings attached”. Or maybe it was the guy who talked to me for five hours and had his tongue down my throat only to ignore me the next weekend. It could also be with the guy who unbuttoned my pants in the street and put his finger in me on our first date without asking.
I don’t think I’ll ever find the key to it. Google says I can open it with a hairpin. Maybe when I feel strong enough I’ll try.