My first suitcase. To a girl with perpetual wanderlust, my first piece of luggage was the ultimate sign of freedom. It was my ticket to see the world. Have pink luggage, will travel.
It's a beast and it's pink. I can recognize it across the airport in a heartbeat. It can definitely fit a couple small baby pandas if I had to. I can tell you within a half pound how much it weighs, if it's going to be tagged heavy (which it has been, more times that I can count), or if I've got room for a souvenir or two.
It's been my travel companion on many adventures. Italy, Jamaica, Canada, Hawaii. Minnesota to South Carolina and back. Crisscrossed the United States for the year that bag was my home away from home. Across town to my first stationary home of my own. Italy, Canada, Hawaii, Jamaica.
It's dirty, starting to tear a bit, and a zipper catches. There are still adventures left to be had in that old bag, but for someone else next time.
I'm hanging up my travel tag on my old pink suitcase.