In Zora Neale Hurston’s narrative
essay, she illustrates an image of the Great Stuffer of Bags. He is the one
responsible for making each bag unique and individual (this analogy obviously
represents God making people in their own distinct way). She describes the contents
of her brown bag as “a first-water diamond, an empty spool, bits of broken
glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since crumbled away, a rusty
knife-blade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a
nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, [and] a dried
flower or two still a little fragrant”. Using Hurston’s reasoning, I think that
I am a worn-leather shoulder-bag that has gone through many rough years, but is
still here. Inside, one might find the keys to an old 2001 Hyundai, a small,
laminated card that gives the practice and tournament times of A2 Volleyball
Club, a box of new graphite pencils, an iPod filled with songs by Bon Iver and
Mumford and Sons, an old, tattered family picture, a new crisp photo of my
three closest friends, and bits of broken glass glued back together. Each one
of the objects has a different meaning. The car keys represent both hard work
and freedom. The laminated card signifies how much volleyball dominates my life
with practice every week and tournaments nearly every weekend. The pencils show
my new-found love for drawing. The iPod expresses my admiration and need of
music. The family photo exemplifies my rocky family history, but the crisp
photo of my friends illustrates the newer, more accepting family I have
recently found. Finally, the mended glass represents how I have broken down so
many times, but continue to repair myself and the situation. Individually,
these objects are worthless, but together they are priceless – making me who I
am.
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