The Object of My Desire

Do you remember when we first met? I was in the coffee shop and you had just arrived and were sitting on a small shelf. As usual, I was waiting in line to order my afternoon cup of overpriced and absurdly complicated to describe beverage, when I happened to notice you out of the corner of my eye. So new! So pretty! So fresh!

They had tagged you as a "Garden Bag", a Mother's Day promotional item, but I could see that you were meant for much greater things. Stuffed with a box of tea (a caffeine-less waste of water) and a pretty little pink water bottle, you were so perky and full of hope that someone would buy you. But alas, you were too expensive.

Every day, for weeks, I would visit you, admiring all of the details that endeared you to me. The delicate flower on your front.

Your lacy trim and eyelet loops.

Your little pockets, lined with coordinating stripes, waiting to be filled. Oh, how I yearned for you! I knew that one day we would be together, when the time was right. Soon, Mother's Day would pass and you would be marked down to a price that I could afford.

Finally, the day came.

Today, I walked by the coffee shop and looked in the window. You weren't there! I told myself not to panic, that you were probably hiding in a new spot: the discount bin. A few hours later, I came for you, but you were nowhere to be found. My heart sank. I had waited too long. It was not meant to be. I was so sad. On a lark, I asked the clerk where you were. She disappeared for a few minutes, and I was sure that she would come back and tell me that you were gone forever. With a heavy heart, I waited for the bad news. But she came back with you in hand. You were on sale: 50% off! Joy! Mine mine mine, all mine. As I walked out of the store with you in a large paper bag, I smiled and giggled like a schoolgirl.

My beautiful little bag.

You are home at last. See what purpose you have given me?

Good things do happen at Starbucks.