Miles of style

I was in high school when I was gifted with a 3-piece set of luggage, this despite the fact I never traveled except in the backseat of Dad’s car, driving to see Mom’s relatives who lived scattered in suburbs west of Chicago.

My set was the color green you see on mossed rocks – not a standout color but not ordinary, either.

My favorite was the mid-sized piece because it was a perfect square and small enough for me to walk with it, which I did sometimes just to get the feel. The smallest piece was called a train case, a giant shoe box with a handle. It had a plastic compartment tray inside intended to organize a woman’s little stuff, which I did sometimes just to see if I had the right things to meet the criteria.

I left the big piece alone. You’d need a helper to carry it and since I had no such person, it wasn’t much fun to work with.

I think this gift was an acknowledgment of sorts from my parents, who thought of things I would need someday and got them for me. They were good parents that way, thinking of what I needed instead of what I wanted.

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About Mrs. Fitz

Hello! I'm Michele Fitzpatrick, a Chicago writer. Like our town, a work in progress. As a journalist, teacher and writing coach I think all of us live our stories and sharing them creates moments that remind us we're connected. And that is enough.
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