The Lonely Life of a Travel Suitcase

 

Hello.

I’m your suitcase. The one stuffed in the back of your closet, wedged between a broken yoga mat and a pair of hiking boots that haven’t seen the outdoors since 2019.

Remember me?

We used to go places. Exotic places. Loud airports, midnight train stations, cramped taxis, and dreamy hotel rooms. My wheels used to glide across foreign floors. My zippers sang the tune of adventure. Now? I haven’t moved in 628 days. (But who’s counting?)

 I Was Built to Travel

Do you know what it feels like to be designed for one purpose and slowly forgotten?

I was born strong — reinforced corners, 360° spinner wheels, a TSA-approved lock, and that sleek carbon fiber shell that made me look more like a luxury car than a piece of luggage. I was made to roam, to roll, to carry not just clothes, but stories.

You used to pack me with such care. Shirts folded like origami, socks tucked into shoes, and always—always—that travel-size bottle of dry shampoo you never actually used.

We had good times, didn’t we?

 Memories From the Road

I still remember the layover in Istanbul when you napped on me like I was your personal beanbag. The rainy train ride through Switzerland, where your passport nearly fell out of my front pocket. And oh — Paris! I lost a wheel on those cobblestones but didn’t complain once. That was the trip you met her, remember?

I held your souvenirs. I protected your secrets.

You held my handle. You dragged me through life.

 But Now, I Wait

Every time I hear the closet door creak, my heart zips a little faster.

Is it finally time?

But it’s always something else. The winter jacket. The beach hat. Or worse — that smug little backpack that thinks it’s so trendy now. TikTok famous, is he? Pfft.

If I Could Wish for One Thing…

It wouldn’t be Paris.

It wouldn’t be a luxury cruise.

It would just be you, packing your things, smiling, saying:

“We’re going somewhere.”

I don’t even care where.

Just let me feel the rush of being rolled again.

Let my zippers breathe. Let my tag flap in the airport wind.

Please, take me with you.

From One Bag to Another…

If you’re reading this, and you’ve got a suitcase like me gathering dust—open it. Look at it. Remember the adventures. And maybe, just maybe… take it for a spin again.

Even if it’s just a weekend trip.

Even if it’s just to your friend’s place across town.

We don’t ask for much. Just movement. Just meaning.

⸻

Signed,

A Forgotten Suitcase

(But still ready to roll.)