My Backpack

My friend, Michelle DeCastro, wrote a poem in high school. For some reason I can remember it verbatum.

My Backpack
I love my backpack
my backpack is black
I love my backpack
my backpack loves me back

Okay, so when I was in high school our backpacks were really special to us. All of my friends and I had Eddie Bauer backpacks and we loved them. I remember one day some guy wrote on my backpack with a permanent marker and I lost it. It is probably the closest I have come to getting in a fight at school. (Except that one time I punched a guy, but I warned him to stop touching me...) Well, I still have my backpack. We have been through so much together: school, trips, hikes, more school. When a new semester starts I bring out my backpack and it always makes me smile. I still love my backpack, but last week it was too overloaded and couldn't take the abuse any longer. It gave up and the zipper broke. My trusty friend that I have had for about 18 years has died. I tried to fix it and still used it a couple times, but I know the game is over. I went to the store today to buy a new backpack. I thought this will be easy to just pick a backpack that I don't care about. But I couldn't do it. I kept mumbling "it's just a backpack, it's just a backpack" like a crazy person, but still couldn't pick a backpack. I am going to try another store this afternoon. Wish me luck.