I've resurrected my passport bag. It hasn't carried a passport since 1991, when a friend and I spent six weeks exploring Australia, sleeping in hostels, partying on beaches, and jumping off cranes.
It's been a while.
Twenty-one years since my husband and I travelled together. On Thursday, we'll give it another go, and celebrate our nearly 21 years together in Quito, Ecuador.
I didn't want to get a new bag, I wanted to carry my old one. The one with history.
So, I "be-raggled" it. (a brand new hippy version of "be-dazzling).
I patched some holes, added some signature touches- a stretch of ancient tape measure measuring 45 to 47.. the next few years of my life. A custom made button by my friend Lory, made out of home made shrinky dink, with the words "bags4darfur" stamped all over it. A salvage edge of fabric sent by Lettuce in England.
A few more patches on the back, and a tiny bit of needlework from a decaying leather glove that my friend Rosa gifted me many years ago.
I'm taking little bits of home and my friends with me when I go. I'm taking little pieces of history, and memories, and thoughts of my younger self as the explorer.
When I get back, it will be Good Friday. I'll have a day to find my head, and then I'll be presenting again. This time at Mitchell Community Church. I'll be like a preacher or something. I hope my papa will be proud.
I'll tell the story again about bags4darfur. The surprises, the redemptions, the miracles, the beautiful people. The hope, the faith, the energy to carry on. And I'll watch it all come to life again- it will remind me of another story we never tire of hearing- that ancient story of death and of resurrection.
So until then, au revior.