my mother's day purse

My daughter Carlin and I went to the Centennial Park craft fair that used to be TACA, held just before Mother’s Day.  The day was cool and pleasant.  I bought a small neck piece from Tye Dye Mary, delighted that she was there and in good health.

In one booth, a woman from Kentucky was selling purses made from recycled leather. I’m always looking for the perfect purse.  This woman had one that was slim and small enough to fit under my armpit, which is where I like to carry purses now.  It was a beautiful soft, gray color, appropriate for any occasion.  It was also soft and fondleable, and it had that sweet leather smell.

My daughter asked if I’d like it for Mother’s Day.  I would. The only thing wrong was that it came with a long, thin strap that made the purse hang at a fashionable thigh level. That wouldn’t do.  I told the purse-maker what I wanted, she took measurements and said she’d make another strap and mail the purse to me. 

Carlin was out of town when my purse arrived.  It was exactly like I remembered and fit perfectly, only it was a pretty, soft purple. Surely my memory is not that bad.  I emailed the lady who made it. 

“Wasn’t it supposed to be gray?”

“No,” she emailed back, “This is the same purse I put aside with your name on it.” So, I started carrying it. 

When Carlin saw the purse, she said, “Wasn’t it supposed to be green?”

One consolation: the perfect purse is still out there.