Mama's Purse

There was fringe dangling from it. For as long as I could remember, there was fringe dangling from my Mama's purse. Sometimes, the purse was black. Other times, it was blue. Navy blue. It depended on the season. How long the days were. But there was always fringe.

When I was five, Mama would shove my Polly Pockets into the zipper compartment. They would protrude outward, making lumps on the inside of her purse. She never minded. She never minded when she grabbed a Polly Pocket instead of her keys. I know she never minded because she never frowned. She was always smiling when she handed me the little doll. "Hold this for one second, Evie." Then she would reach back into the abyss, pulling out a crayon, a handful of crushed Goldfish, a gum wrapper, seven pennies and then finally, her keys. She never minded though. I could tell she never minded because she never frowned. She'd then reach back out to me until I put the Polly Pocket back into her hand. Into the zipper compartment she went, my Polly Pocket again. Lumpy lumpy lumpy.

Sometimes, the fringe got tangled. But I would always help her untangle it. Sometimes, while we were waiting in line at the bank, I would braid the fringe as if it were hair. That was fun. That was fun because for a moment, I would feel like a hairdresser. A real one. One that could do fancy braids. One time, while we were standing in line at the bank, and I was patiently waiting for my blue raspberry Dum Dum lollipop that the teller would have ready for me, Mama had a brown purse. The color of an acorn. It smelled like leather that time. Even after I washed them, my hands smelled like leather. Two days went by, and the smell was still on my fingers. I liked that smell. It reminded me of Grandpa's boots.

I couldn't believe how much stuff Mama could fit into her purse. She had her wallet in there. And it was never a small wallet. Always a fat one. And not because she was rich. But because she stuffed it with lots of things. In there, she had six credit cards, some dollars, coupons, a lot of coupons, tissues, a small notepad and a pen...and maybe more. Then imagine the purse, if the wallet was so stuffed! There was the fat wallet, her checkbook, two packs of gum...and also her hair pick, fifteen keys on one chain, a pad of paper, pepper spray, lipsticks, six different shades of pink, red nail polish for touch-ups. She always needed touch-ups because she was always picking her cuticles. So there was the wallet, checkbook, two packs of gum, hair pick, fifteen keys, paper, pepper spray, six lipsticks, nail polish. I can't think of anything else right now. But there was more. I swear! Oh yes. The receipts. So many receipts from so many years ago. Mama's purse would change with the seasons, but the receipts would stay the same. She didn't like to throw them out. The receipts must have met so many different purses, heard so many of Mama's stories. She told a lot of stories. She liked to talk.

"If you could just keep these in your purse, Ma..." I handed her my earrings. I didn't want to wear them while taking a dive down the highest slide at the water park. I was only ten, and I was being brave. I was being brave, even though I was scared. I knew my belly would come up to my neck. I don't like that feeling. But I needed to feel that feeling in order to be brave. That's what Mama said, at least. She told me that. She slipped my earrings into the zipper compartment of her purse. "Do you want to give me that too, Evie?" She pointed to my bracelet. I didn't have to reply. I slipped it off my wrist and handed her the piece of jewelry. She cozied it up next to my silver earrings in the side pocket of her purse. The bracelet said Girl Power on it. Mama gave me that bracelet. She told me that I have all the power in the world, just because I am a girl. My voice gives me power. My body parts give me power. And no one can take that power away from me. I believed her.

I called it The Switch, when Mama would take everything out of her purse and put it into a different one. She usually did this when the leaves changed on the trees. She only had black, brown and navy purses. Sometimes gray. She never had any of the fun colors, like bright red or slime green. She only had colors that matched the earth. Black like the sky at night. Dark blue like the ocean. Brown like the soil. One time, out of no where, she switched to a rosy pink purse. This one had fringe too. It matched the creepy, crawly earthworms that my brother used to pull out of the dirt when he was little. He would pull them out and take them to the dock. He used the earthworms as fish bait. I would watch. That was fun.

“Do you want to stick a couple of these in my purse, just in case?” She held up three tampons. My mid-section was on fire, as if a miniature human was scraping the inside of my uterus with a teethed spoon. I knew we were going to be walking quite a bit, and I’d probably need them on hand. “Take four, please, Mom.” She grabbed a handful and stuck them in a ziplock baggie. She placed the baggie into the side pocket of her purse, and zipped it shut. You’re going to love Boston, Evie. It’s a wonderful college city.” She smiled at me, and then tucked a bleached blond wisp behind my ear. She could sense the nerves. I wasn’t sure if I was going to love it or not. But if Mama felt sure, then I knew I was going to be okay. 

When I was walking the stage to get my college diploma, I could see my Mom in the middle section, fifth row. Her purse was on her lap. It was grey this time, like a loaded cloud about to burst and start anew. She greeted me after the ceremony. My Dad was standing next to her with a bouquet of bright red roses. Mom took my diploma and stuck it in her purse. She pulled a crisp $100 bill from her fat wallet and handed it to me. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” I tilted my head and smirked. Me? Never. We walked out of the arena and into the parking lot. I grabbed onto a piece of fringe as I leapt through the doors.