Luggage

I love it when I get to pull out my luggage. My luggage is a beloved set my boyfriend at the time (now husband) bought me for our first Christmas together. He spoiled me rotten...and I loved it. The luggage was a sign to me of how he understood my love for exploring the world, how he adores surprising me, and simply how much he loved me.

So...I love my luggage for many reasons. I love to pull it out because it usually means I'm going somewhere fun. Last week I pulled it out for him, and he wasn't going somewhere fun. As I pulled it out we noticed it was still adorned with all sorts of baggage tags, name tags, etc. We had a moment of nostalgia as we read the tags and reminsced about our magical honeymoon to Hawaii. Nearly 7 months later we were still experiencing PVD (post-vacation depression).

As I began ripping the tags off this was our conversation:
Him: Are you going to keep those?
Me: For what?
Him: For your scrapbook. (I can never tell if he is half serious when he asks me this question. He asks me all of the time, do you want these tickets for your scrapbook, do you want this, do you want that for your scrapbook? I'm still not sure if he's simply being funny or if deep down he wishes I kept a scrapbook).
Me: You realize I don't actually scrapbook, right? How long have you known me now? Have you ever seen me scrapbook?

I don't remember what was said after that, but what I do remember is taking off the name tag. I opened it and read "Holly Hardy." I was immediately taken back to a moment in the airport as I giggled while writing "Holly Hardy" legitimately on the tag. I was officially Holly Hardy. And I loved it. I was finally married to Bret Hardy, and couldn't be more happy.

As I walked into the other room to throw the tags away, I couldn't do it. I decided to save them...for my scrapbook.