Those Weathered Satchels

I see these old or middle-aged men in airports sometimes with these weathered old satchels they carry. There is alwasy something about those men, not neccesserily stylish, but something real, their history. They are alive with history, it's in the wrinkles on their faces and in the wrinkles on their old weathered satchels. I look at them and I wonder about who they are and where they are going. If I see one on a luggage conveyor belt, I pick it out with my eyes invariably, and follow it as it makes its slow, respectable rounds. Time is imprinted on them. They are almost always light brown leather. These men have had them for years, and even though they are weathered and old, they won't exchange them for another one. It's their permanence that's worth so much more than newness. These satchels are their friends. I want one like that. I want to keep it until the day I die. It will be my companion, my mute companion, filled with experience and stories.

Jas MB