“ The first thing that carries - that both holds and contains - everything I need, and that is mine and not-mine, is my mother. She does this most obviously, most literally, when we go out; her bag is the transitional object between home and everywhere else. “
- ´ Beginning with Bags ´, by Adam Phillips
In the memories of my childhood, there’s this image of my mom’s handbag. It was like a magical box full of everything you could ever need. Alongside her own necessities, there’s a curious phenomenon at play.
Despite its finite space, her bag becomes a communal vessel, accommodating not only her needs but also those of others, particularly me.
If I needed a napkin, she had one. Thirsty ? She had water. Craving candy ? Yup, she had that too. I loved digging through her bag because I always knew I’d find Marianne.
The candy.
It was like a little adventure every time I reached into her bag, finding bits of her love tucked away in its pockets.
As I grew older, I realized that this intimate connection with the handbag wasn’t confined to my childhood memories; it extended to the dynamics of adult partnership as well.
There’s a symbiotic relationship with the handbag. In daily life, a partner often finds solace in the boundless capacity of their companion’s bag. Keys, wallet, phone - they all find refuge in its cavernous interior, as if seeking asylum from the chaos of someone’s scatterbrained existence.
It’s a silent agreement within a partnership, unspoken but understood. The moments of absentmindedness are met with patience, the handbag always open, always ready to shoulder the burden of one's forgetfulness.
Thus, in the rhythm of their shared journey, the handbag transcends its role as a mere accessory. It becomes a symbol of their partnership, a tangible expression of support and understanding, seamlessly integrated into their daily rituals.
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