I threw this backpack away couple of weeks ago.
It was time.
Time to let go of things, time to let go of mementoes, time to let go of stuff because their original owners had already let go of them.
I took a good look at the backpack before tossing it into the bin.
It had, after all, gone with me to places that I previously had not gone before, and in all honesty, I don't hate it nor resent it.
But times have changed, my preferences have changed, and I no longer appreciate this backpack the way that I used to.
That doesn't mean that I don't remember the circumstances that led to me buying this backpack, or that I don't remember at where I got this backpack from.
I remember it all very well.
Is there a significance to this blue and black colored, padded strap backpack that I bought at a shop on the second floor of Larkin Bus Terminal?
Yes.
Because she's a memento of a time when The Family and I were going up to Malaysia nearly every weekend.
I'm not reminiscing romantically about those times.
But they did happen.
And because they did happen- Saturday mornings to Sunday nights four times a month- we've got this story of the backpack to which I never really gave it a name.
It's one thing to pack for a 7 day trip and get on a coach that will take you point-to-point directly to your destination.
It's another thing, however, to pack the same size of bag for a 2 day trip and take three buses before you finally get to the place you were planning to go.
The journey would've been much easier had The Family decided to take direct coaches from the (now-enbloc) Golden Mile Complex at Beach Road.
I could have then tossed my green gym bag overhead my seat, or even in the luggage section below.
But they preferred to do it the organic way and so four times a month we boarded a bus to take us from our home to Queen Street Bus Terminal, where from there we took another bus- 170 or Causeway Link depending on which queue was shorter- and then after that from Larkin to whichever town we were going.
Maybe I wouldn't have minded it so much had it not been for this chonk of a green gym bag resting like a heavyweight on my right shoulder.
But as it was, that's what I carried when we first began traveling to and fro, and trust me, quite a chore it was to balance the bag with one arm up and down the steps of the bus more than five times.
First time was when I got up SBS Transit's bus to get to Queen Street.
Second time was when I got down the SBS Transit at Queen Street.
After that there was the boarding up 170 and/or Causeway Link to get to Woodlands Checkpoint.
Then at Woodlands Checkpoint there was the disembarkation to enter the hall where my passport got stamped.
When that finished, I got back up the bus again to cross over to the Malaysian side.
When we reached the Malaysian side the process repeated itself, down and up, before finally reaching the Larkin Bus Terminal.
But that was only the first half of the journey.
There was still the journey on the domestic coaches before we got to the town we were planning to go.
All in all, it made for a tiring journey, made none easier by the weight of the gym bag that I was lugging along.
What bothered me the most, however, weren't the bus steps, but the queues at Immigration on both sides, because the queue moved one step forward every time someone cleared their passport, and there was no way I could put my bag down on the floor unless I picked it up every time, or used my foot to kick it along.
I wouldn't have minded doing the latter, honestly- it wouldn't have done the bag any harm- but The Parents were there and they weren't the sort to close an eye.
So I found myself carrying my luggage the entire time both sides of the Causeway, and on weekends, trust me, the crowd was there.
I don't know how many times I switched between my left and right shoulders whilst standing in the queue waiting to get my passport stamped.
And then there were still the bus queues at both Queen Street and Larkin Bus Terminals, the bus queues at both Checkpoints, plus the walk from the town's bus station to our hotel.
It was very tiring, I tell you.
And this was only one way!
How many weeks I used this green gym bag on our weekend sojourns to Malaysia I no longer remember.
But I remember paying RM40 for the backpack, and I remember the second floor shop where I bought it from.
Traveling upcountry to Malaysia got so much easier after that.
No more did I have to content with my luggage clunking me uncomfortably on my hips whenever I walked.
No more did I have to shift my luggage left to right and right to left whilst queuing at the counters.
And no more did I have only one hand free to hold the seat rail in front of me whilst standing squashed between other passengers on the public bus back to Singapore.
There was now no more dead air space inside my luggage bag to make my clothes roll untidily around.
There was now no need to balance it with a hand on my shoulder whilst standing or walking.
And I could finally feel more mobile, get up and down the bus easier, be more capable to dash up the bus if necessary, and even if there was no sitting room, there was lesser fear of falling because now I had both hands free.
It's been more than twenty years since this backpack went upcountry to Malaysia, and now she'll never get to go again.
But, as someone said not too long ago- she has once been- and for that, I guess, even whilst I refuse to reminisce, it is up to me now to revisit (reconquer) some of those towns that this backpack went to all those years ago, and see it again, with new eyes, and with a new (Decathlon) backpack this time.