My Mother’s Handbag

My mother’s handbag was a heavy burden to carry, but

she lever left the house without it, clinging to it like a

life raft as she navigated the world. 

It always contained a tube of hot pink lipstick from Merle Norman,

wads of Kleenex that smelled vaguely of perfume,

a plastic rain bonnet that folded into a tight rectangular fan,

a beige Naugahyde case that snapped at the top,

containing a pack of True Blue cigarettes and

an assortment of plastic lighters in various colors,

a large leather wallet containing a checkbook,

credit cards, a library card, a driver’s license, and miniature calculator,

a plastic sleeve holding all of our most recent school portraits,

a stack of coupons clipped from the A&P and

a newspaper clipping about my brother’s marching band,

an enormous ring of keys (who knows what they opened),

attached to a keychain that said “Welcome to Niagara Falls,”

a compact holding flesh-colored powder,

and a round puff against a dusty mirror,

a refrigerator magnet listing the phone numbers of the police,

paramedics, fire department and the local hospital (just in case of emergency)

a ticket stub from “Oliver:  The Musical” (the only movie she’d seen that year)

a small canister of tear gas purchased for her by my father.

paper clips, bobby pins, safety pins and rubberbands

a metal nail file and a pearl-handled comb with a few teeth missing\

a tiny pair of metal scissors that folded in on themselves

several packets of sugar and ketchup

one hoop earring, the other missing in action

a bottle of aspirin and a pack of Dentyne

an old roll of tropical fruit-flavored Lifesavers wrapped in

silver foil (morphed into a waxy yellow substance)

a girl scout badge I earned for cooking chocolate pudding

a broken bracelet made of orange plastic beads

a paperback romance novel by Danielle Steel

a white rabbit’s foot (for good luck)

a golf pencil with a broken tip,

six or seven ball point pens with red, black and blue ink

a roll of stamps and return address labels sporting the American flag

sunglasses on a chain and about a pound of loose change

in a small plastic purse.

You could dig in that handbag for hours and never get to the bottom of it.