In My Purse
Carefully gutted and empty, the camouflage bedazzled bag laid limply on its side.
Its contents were strewn about on the kitchen table.
The bag had been weighing down her shoulder for weeks now.
She could feel the strain when she headed out the door and slung the bag over her shoulder.
When she sat it down, she could feel the immediate relief in her body.
She decided now was the time to clean out her purse.
On the table were various items, some necessary others confusing.
She has made no progress.
A mess lies in front of her.
She gazes over the field mismatched items.
Empty make up compacts, a poorly stocked first aid kit that had been used too many times, buttons that she wasn't sure if they belonged to a item of clothing or if she picked them up because they were cute.
Empty gum wrappers and lots of heavy change.
She needed none of this to be carried around with her.
Receipts only totaled to three. These were the reminders of the infrequent times she stopped at the pricey coffee shoppe at work.
On the other hand, doctors appointment reminder cards were sadly abundant.
She counted them.
Since January alone this year, she has had eight doctors' appointments, three ultrasounds, and twelve blood draws and nowhere near an answer.
She held the two newest cards. They were for upcoming appointments with specialists.
She hoped she wasn't simply holding cards in her hands. She hoped these simple cards would be reminders for more than appointments.
Hopefully these doctors would figure out what was wrong with her.
Hopefully they would not recommend anymore damn blood work or expensive tests.
Hopefully they would see something the others hadn't and would give her some answers.
She briefly held them a little tighter, holding onto hope letting it soak into her soul before sliding them in her wallet.
Hope was the only thing she needed to carry with her.