Meet Kayla’s Backpack

It was a gift from my Mom. I saw it wandering the mall one sunny Saturday morning shortly after graduating high school. It was in the window of the Vera Bradley store, under the display spotlight in all its pink, floral glory. I pointed it out to my Mom with a squeal. (I’ve always loved school and everything revolving around it, I spend hours in Target at the start of every semester picking out pencils and notebooks.) She agreed that it was cute. It was “so me,” but really? Vera Bradley? Isn’t that a bit expensive for a school bag?

Sure enough, a few months later Mom gave it to me with a big pink bow on top, shrugging off the price tag by saying, “It’ll last. The first Diee to get a degree needs a good backpack.” 

I’ve toted it around every day since—class, study dates in the library, club meetings, work, errands, this baby has carried me everywhere. As such, it’s packed with all the necessities... 

In the side pockets, I keep a black polka dot umbrella and a thermos of coffee (half black Ethiopian coffee, half hot chocolate). My laptop, color-coded planner, and daisy-print folder are tucked in the big pocket. My tangled chargers, shark-shaped pencil case, and spare headscarf reside in the middle pocket. 

The smallest pocket is the most chaotic, holding a cluster of strawberry hand lotion, spare plastic silverware, dinosaur bandaids, a roll of tape, sanitizing wipes, a nail file, gum, rogue pens, cherry red sunglasses, and a lifesaving plastic cover that drapes over my bag to protect it from the rain. 

The outside boasts fractions of all the great loves of my life, too, in the form of keychains. A rainbow alpaca I picked up on a trip to Florida, a fuzzy peach yeti (its twin is on my sister’s bag), a summer-dress Hello Kitty from my best friend, a green triceratops from my favorite museum, and my good luck charm; a bulbasaur. When a lecture is particularly dull, I fiddle with them. 

This backpack supports me through the day. It holds lingering memories in the neat seams—laughing with friends in the cafeteria, crossing my fingers that I’d get an “A,” white-knuckling the straps as I walked into my first day teaching in a jail, hiking the train tracks that run behind campus, and, of course, exploring Centenary and the world beyond. 

As I near the end of my undergraduate journey, I’ll take this trusty sidekick with me wherever my path leads—messy pockets, vibrant keychains, and all.