The Patient Suitcase

I was standing in the bag drop line watching other travelers nudge their sleek bags forward.

One finger. Effortless. Like they were barely trying.

Then my husband hoisted mine onto the scale.

I held my breath.

48 pounds. Just under the limit. (It was always touch and go.)

My bag is big, boxy, and built like a tank. It weighs twenty pounds empty.

And standing there watching those sleek bags glide by, something hit me…

It had been a long time since I’d needed to pack a big bag for a big adventure.

That bag had been sitting in the closet, largely untouched, while life filled up with other things. Important things.

A grandson who needed us. A youngest son we were pouring everything into — the one sitting next to me on this very flight, heading to a graduation celebration before he leaves for college in the fall. A business I was nurturing.

All of it was the point. All of it was the priority.

But holding my breath over that scale, I felt the weight of those years. Not with regret, but with recognition. And maybe a little bit of gratitude.

Travel Waited Its Turn

When I designed my decade, I designed it with my values at the core.

Autonomy. Meaningful work. Real adventures with my family.

No matter how crazy life or work got, travel didn’t disappear from the plan. It just waited.

What surprised me was how patiently it waited.

Every week when I reviewed my goals — juggling schedules, building my practice, figuring out what mattered most — travel was still there. Still on the list. Still part of what I was working toward.

It wasn’t wishful thinking. It was a held intention.

And here’s what I’ve come to believe…

Things that stay in consideration get done.

The vision doesn’t disappear when it’s built on what’s important to you.

I held travel. And it happened.

On the way home, we wheeled the beasts back to the bag check line for the flight home.

My husband doesn’t always notice these things. But he looked at my suitcase and said:

“When we get home, I’m going to buy you a new suitcase.”

He’d been picking up on something too.

I already know what it will feel like. Sleek. Weighs almost nothing. Glides with the push of a finger. A support for whatever else I want to take along.

An investment in the coming vision. One within grasp because I already designed it years ago.

I can’t wait!

A question worth sitting with:

What’s still on your list, patiently waiting its turn?

Laurie