Ode to My Backpack.

I've had nightmares before, terrible nightmares. Nightmares about dying, falling from great heights and showing up somewhere naked. But no nightmare has been worse than the nightmares in which I've lost my backpack.

My backpack is my life.

meet my backpack. ain't it a beaut'?

As a college student, my backpack goes with me everywhere I go. It's on my back when I walk out my front door in the morning and it's on my back when I walk into my apartment at night. It goes with me all over campus, and all over town sometimes. It carries my most expensive possession (my computer) and my life-sustaining essentials (granola bars, fruit snacks, sack lunches, lotion, bandaids, advil, chapstick, and my planner, without which, I would be a goner).

It's my footrest when my back hurts in classes and I need to slouch in my chair and prop my feet up. I've used it many a time as a pillow for an emergency on campus sleep-off-a-headache nap. It's my favorite accessory, and sometimes I feel like an outfit is not complete without it.

BFFs

My backpack is one of my greatest friends, for I spend more waking hours with it than anything or anyone else. Sometimes I whisper secrets into the pockets of my backpack. Not really. But I might try it.

My backpack has the capability to hold amazing quantities of stuff without looking chubby. Sometimes I think it is a miracle backpack (hushed whisper).

My backpack has smelled funky for the last few weeks. Something about old peanut butter sandwiches being lost in its depths. It survived the great Gatorade spill of 2011 a few weeks ago, but since the great BYU chocolate milk spill of a few days ago, I figured it was time to give Mr. Backpack a spa treatment. Yep, my backpack is having a good ol' spin in the washing machine as I type. I found 18 pounds of half pieces of gum in the bottom when I cleaned it out (I always tear them in half). I also found my favorite pair of earrings, which I thought I lost in mid-July.

chocolate milk stains: the downside of owning a white backpack.

Dear Backpack,

From the moment I saw you the first week of freshman year at the bookstore sidewalk sale for only 25 dollars, I knew we were meant to be together. You have been with me through so many early morning classes, late nights walking home, campus naps, rainstorms (you were so brave), and library study sessions (thanks for holding so many snacks).

Backpack, even though it's I who have carried YOU through all these times, YOU have truly carried ME. And for that I thank you.

Love,
Amy...

..who should be doing her homework. but writing letters to inanimate objects is much more fun.