For the first few years, that bag just lived an ordinary life with me.
It came to work on my shoulder every morning. It held my grocery lists, my car keys, the little notebook I was always scribbling in. It carried the small, forgettable things that, looking back, were actually my whole life.
I bought other bags over the years, of course. Cheap ones, trendy ones. They cracked, they tore, they ended up in the bin within a season.
But the caramel bag only grew softer and more beautiful with time. Like it was getting better at being mine.