A Sunday Relic

There it sits, intentionally placed, all neatly stacked; it was not meant to be this way. It was not meant for a corner, not meant to be perfectly stacked and yet, there it sat. A lonely, corner keeper, all battered and worn; now was its mission. Oh, what had caused this battering and wear? Why had it survived?

Surely filling an empty void to her living room decor was not the original intent; the girl began to fantasize. Fantasize about how the neatly stacked objects had reached her living room, what contents had they held and more importantly, why were they so battered and worn. Had it been intentional?

As the fantasies in her head slowly stole the morning, a journey began to unfold. She could imagine, in great detail, the places and the people to which had been apart of this relic. People who wore long, life weary faces in places of another time. The contents were not hers to truly understand and yet slowly they began to emerge.

The relic had contained plain everyday items. Everyday articles that had been required to reach what ever destination it had embarked upon. It once contained the personality of a previous owner, had been a true companion. It had witnessed the joy of a honeymoon, the happiness of many an outing, even was there through the sorrow of a dying loved one. “No wonder you have scars,” she thought.

The scars are the remnants of another’s time and journey. The joy and pleasure was visible by the love and care it had been bestowed; the scratches and dents reminders of the pain. “Oh what a journey you have had,” she commented out loud. “But, why me?” she asked.

It was as she recalled the handed down contents of her relic that the answer became clear. The three-decade-old receipt and a key, hardly used, were her answer and the relic?

The relic was a stack of old suitcases. For her, a stack of old suitcases that now after a small fanciful journey held a whole other meaning. Somehow she had been entrusted with their knowledge; their journey and now she understood their true contents.

The contents told the story of, pass on your baggage, let go of what holds you back, free yourself of what weighs you down and that, which will inevitably cause you to miss the train.

She keeps her intentionally place, neatly stacked suitcases not merely as decor but rather as a reminder to herself. Let things go, learn to free yourself, don’t become weighed down and what ever she does, don’t miss the train.

Peace and blessings to you on this Sunday.

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