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When you drag out an old backpack, the things that were daily necessities years ago are often still in the pockets and compartments. Remnants of
the past. Today, I dug out my ancient college book pack. I thought it would smell funky, but it just flooded my olfactory center with the warmth of a young
me. Fondly pausing over the faded dictionary, broken pencils, and yellow marker, I remembered reaching into one of the pockets to grab the pen to
underline textbook passages and using pencils to take furious notes.
From the outside pocket, I would grab a tissue to blow my nose. There’s still a pile of Kleenex© in there, along with the rubber bands I used to keep
my pant legs out of the bike gears. The tube of lip gloss is dried up. So is the gum. I also found two small paper bags for sandwiches when something to
eat was critical. Dark rye, lettuce, and cheddar cheese; they were always the same.
I used the pack again today as I headed up to the university to begin again. Remembering that the old things inside were still there, along with the
new, I carried them with me. It felt right.
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