The lesson of the leather suitcase

I was 8 years old. I had little need of luggage. But something about that old leather suitcase appealed to my imagination. The piece was better suited to my grandparents’ era than my own. In fact, I had found it in my grandmother’s attic. Grams didn’t object, and so the suitcase came to live beneath my bed.

There was an elegance in the chestnut-brown leather and tarnished brass latches. The cracked handle felt firm in my grip and made me feel like I was going