The Little Brown Suitcase

THE LITTLE BROWN SUITCASE

              When Kate was born the most unusual thing happened. Although her entrance into this world was unremarkable, a little brown suitcase appeared in the labor and delivery room just after her birth. With all the commotion a newborn brings, the brown suitcase was barely noticed; the nurses stepped around it, the doctor pushed it aside. Then Kate’s dad carried it into his wife’s hospital room, thinking she had brought it along as a necessity for the big moment that was Kate’s birth.

              Two days later as Kate’s parents prepared all the accoutrements that accompanied Kate’s birth, Kate’s mom said to her dad, “What is that?” and she pointed to the brown suitcase.

              “I thought you brought that. I thought it was for all the things we’ve collected for our sweet little Kate.”

              “No,” Mom said, “I’ve never seen that before.”

              Mom and Dad walked out of the hospital carrying balloons, flowers, bottles, diapers and Kate; but they left the little brown suitcase behind. However, when they arrived home, in Kate’s pink room, filled with flowers and stuffed animals, there sat the little brown suitcase, waiting for Kate.

Time passed, and the little brown suitcase sat in Kate’s closet, waiting to fulfill its purpose.

              Kate grew and met every milestone with cheers and smiles and hugs and kisses from her doting parents. She crawled, she walked, she talked and ran. And before they knew it, she was no longer sleeping in a crib, and Kindergarten was just around the corner.

              One morning Kate’s mom slipped into her room. She wanted one more quiet morning watching her sweet little girl sleeping before the busyness of school began. At the foot of Kate’s bed sat the little brown suitcase. Kate’s mom had not seen it since she placed it in the closet all those years ago.

              At the end of Kate’s bed lay her now faded baby blanket, the one she had used since the day Mom and Dad brought her home from the hospital. As if being led by some invisible force, Kate’s mom reached over stroking the soft worn blanket one last time. She folded it neatly and tucked it inside the little brown suitcase. Then she placed the case in the back of the closet once again.

              Kindergarten started, as did First grade, Second grade, Third, Fourth, and Fifth. From time-to-time Kate would come home from an extraordinary day and find the little brown suitcase sitting in the middle of her room. She knew almost instinctively that the case needed something from her on the days it appeared in the middle of her room.         

              One day when she was finishing up fifth grade, her teacher presented the class with a poster of an orange cat named Morris. The poster would be the prize for the winning tale written by one of the students in her class. Mr. Murray was the best teacher Kate had ever had. He was funny and kind and he was very helpful. He asked all the students to write their story; and then he collected them all.

              He began reading each one of the stories, but he would stop when he discovered a misspelled word or a grammatical error. He would then return the paper to the writer; corrections were made, and the reading would begin again. Kate was so very proud of her story! Not everyone had given their story a title, but she had. She knew Mr. Murray would like the added touch of the title, so she proudly handed it to him for the reading.

              Mr. Murray smiled to himself as he silently read the title. Kate secretly smiled too as she knew her story was the best! She could almost see the poster of Morris hanging in her room. And then Mr. Murray announced the title of the story, “The Coyboy”. Kate nearly cried. She had spelled the title of her story wrong; it was supposed to be “The Cowboy”. She was heartbroken! Mr. Murray handed the story back to her for her correctios.

              She almost kept the story in her folder. She was so embarrassed about the misspelled title she didn’t want him to read the rest of the story to the class.

              But he did.

              And she won!

              She knew on that day that the little case would be in the middle of her room when she got home. She folded the story as carefully as she could and placed it in the case before returning it back into the closet.

              As it always does, time passed, more and more swiftly with each passing year, and before Mom and Dad knew it Kate was graduating from college. With each passing year the little brown suitcase became heavier and heavier. Every item within the case represented a slice of Kate’s extraordinary life.

              One such slice took place years after Kate’s marriage and after the birth of her children. She was packing away the baby items for there would be no more children born into the household. She had learned that life doesn’t always go as one would want. She was sure she needed to place one of the beautiful baby blankets from her children into the case; after all it had been waiting on her in the middle of the living room floor the day she was cleaning out closets.

              She neatly folded the blanket, as her mom had done with her own baby blanket, and she placed it in the case. She reached for the top of the case to shut it tight, but the case wouldn’t budge; it wouldn’t close. Puzzled, she took the blanket out, refolded it as neatly and as gingerly as she could, she placed it back into the case. Once again, the top of the case refused to close.

              Kate sat with her legs crisscrossed, elbows on her knees, and her face resting on her hands, looking at the little brown case. What could the problem be? Why won’t the case close? she thought. It was only after she got up and went back into her son’s room to clean some more that she found it.

              The baseball. She knew without a doubt that this was what the case wanted.

              Her son had been an avid baseball player from the time he was six until the incident with the baseball.

              Jasper had loved playing baseball. He was smaller than the other players, so they often underestimated his passion and talent for the game. One night he was standing on the pitcher’s mound. The crowd and the players from both teams were amazed at the heat coming across the plate as he pitched the ball over and over again. One of those pitches met the bat of an outstanding, much larger boy, from the opposing team. The ball was then met by Jasper’s face.

              A month later, after surgery and recuperation, Jasper was ready to play again.

              Once Kate placed the ball into the case, it closed without a hitch.

              Years before Kate had placed her very first traffic ticket in the case. At sixteen, just beginning to drive on her own, Kate had rolled through a stop sign, according to the police officer. She was sure she had stopped. As the officer was writing the ticket, and tears were streaming down her face, her friend Jordan drove by and noticed she had been pulled over. 

              Jordan was waiting in her living room when she arrived home. Kate was crying, talking as quick as she could telling her parents and Jordan all about the unfairness of the traffic ticket.          Jordan was ready to console Kate and assure her that everything was going to be fine. But Kate pushed him away, ran down the hallway to her room, slammed the door and fell on her bed crying.

              Jordan waited patiently for her to re-emerge. His waiting paid off. She fell into his arms when she finally came out of her room, and the tears began again.

              Four years later she was once again crying tears while being held in his arms. But this time it was for a completely different reason; they were dancing their first dance at their wedding.

              When Kate and Jordan returned from their honeymoon, there sat the familiar brown suitcase. This time Kate placed the handkerchief she used at their wedding inside.

              Years later, once again with tears in her eyes, Kate opened the case and carefully placed Jordan’s glasses inside. After 54 years of marriage, Kate was alone.

              The case sat alone for the next two years. Hidden in the back of the closet. Grief was too great for extraordinary days. There were only ordinary, unremarkable, getting up, eating and going back to bed days. There was no reason for the little brown case to find its way to the middle of the room.

              Until there was.

              One cold December morning Kate decided grief would no longer win. She decided to make some changes. She decided to give the little brown case a reason to come out from hiding.

              Six weeks later, when Kate arrived home, there it was, expectantly waiting in the middle of the room. With a smile as wide as a Cheshire cat, Kate approached the case and opened it. She placed the trademark green bag with the gold lettering in the case.

              It had all started on the cold day in December. Kate had never traveled abroad. She had been busy with work and kids and Jordan. She decided that cold morning that a vacation, traveling to the other side of the pond, was exactly what she needed.

              She impressed herself by traveling alone. She impressed herself with learning how to navigate the Tube in London. And she impressed herself with the friendships she made while staying in the small township of Shepherd’s Bush. She loved her cozy little Airbnb. She loved walking the streets and visiting the market. But it was her visit to the famous department store Harrod’s that made her trip. And it was that trip to Harrod’s that gave her the strength and the ability to continue living every day to the fullest.

              A few weeks after her return from London she walked into the mall, sat in a black leather chair at Claire’s pierced her ears. Upon her arrival home, of course, the brown case was waiting!

              The fast-moving train called time flew faster down the tracks with Kate living her life to the fullest as much as she was able. She became satisfied with being home more. She tried learning new hobbies and crafts. Her favorite newest talent was crocheting. Even with her fingers tight with arthritis Kate learned to make the most intricate of stitches, the most beautiful potholders and daintiest bookmarks. Her most treasured creation was a small blanket she made to cover her legs as she watched TV or read. She was chilled more and more of late; it seemed.

              One evening, as the temperature dropped Kate laid her prized blanket across her legs. She smiled and closed her eyes for just a moment. When she opened her eyes the little brown case was sitting at her feet. Instantly, instinctively, she knew.

              She removed the blanket from her legs and folded it perfectly. She placed it into the case and then as gingerly as possible, she closed the case. It was full—almost too full—but actually it was just right.

              As she always did, she placed the case in the back of the closet. She climbed into her bed and pulled the covers up to neck, preparing for bed. She watches her favorite show as she drifts off to sleep.

              In the morning her TV was still playing, and her eyes were still closed. The little brown case sat silently in the closet knowing that now its purpose had been complete.