You don’t seem to know I exist. It’s understandable, I suppose. If you did notice me, it would be with indifference, possibly even disdain. That’s fine. I live to be abused and ignored, filled to the brim or stripped bare, pummeled with sharp objects, suffocated with unidentifiable and smelly things at the whim of others. I have witnessed untold decadence and misery. I am a stalwart, stoic carrier of the precious and the prosaic. (I am also somewhat skilled in the passive aggressive, as you can see.)
I have carried your socks and underwear, Oppressor. Also your daughter’s diapers, your dog’s poop bags and food for your entire family. I have carried your wife’s everything, over the past four and a half years. I have been around the world, criss-crossed North America and function as a purse, overnight bag and briefcase, often simultaneously.
Oppressor, I may appear nothing to you, but in fact I am quite special. I am from Spain, carefully chosen and purchased from the store of my maker, Adolpho Domingo, a name that must be spoken with a certain buttery and exotic cadence, ideally with a faux Spanish accent. But I digress.
I am writing to you, Oppressor, because the days are beginning to wear on me. Though I have many useful compartments, zippered, snapped, etcetera, I am weary of carrying the weight of the world on a daily basis. There is a lovely shelf to which I would like to go, only to come forth for special occasions. From this shelf I will happily observe the frantic comings and goings of your lovely family and speak soft, calming words to your crazed wife, coming out into the world only for special occasions.
I cannot be replaced, of course, since I am of such enduring quality and sentimental importance. But if some lesser, but more energetic young thing were to come along to take over the day-to-day running of things, I could retire and spend my days in peaceful contemplation. I would be much obliged and sure to live to a ripe old age with the excellent pension your wife has kindly set up. (I am also thinking of writing a novel.)
Giving up her close contact with me will of course be wrenching for Danielle, but she is a resilient woman and ultimately quite sensible. It might help if she had something like THIS, possibly in crimson.
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