I stood in front of my closet, surrounded by a graveyard of inadequate handbags. I needed a new purse, a black purse with zippers, compartments, pockets; "D" rings for my keys, and a cross-body strap.
I felt my journey was just beginning.
Boutiques, department stores, online shops, discount outlets—I scoured them all. My children's exasperated sighs became the soundtrack to my search. "Mom, it's just a purse," they'd groan, rolling their eyes as I rejected yet another almost-perfect candidate.
Weeks went into months. I rummaged in flea markets, rifled through vintage stores, and my determination wavering with each disappointment. I was ready to give up.
Then, on an impromptu detour down a street I'd passed a hundred times before, I saw it. There it was my purse at the discount store on the corner. Black leather, long cross-body strap, check. Multiple pockets check. "D" rings on both sides, check. I counted one, two, three, four, five zippered compartments, and—could it be?—a bonus pocket perfectly sized for hand sanitizer.
My persistence had paid off. Sometimes, the perfect thing is worth waiting for—even if it's "just a purse."
Georgia
No comments:
Post a Comment