Chapter Three: Travels

There came a time when Sierra needed to take a trip across the counrty. As with all travels, Sierra packed her bags and headed to the train station. She thought of her tapestry bag. Ought she try to leave it behind? She had tried so many times before without success that she thought she'd better not try again. As she ventured out of her house to begin the trip to the train station she noticed how beautiful the daylight was streaming through the aspen trees onto the dirt path shere she was walking. A silent tear slipped off her cheek as she thought about how long it had been since she had felt the warm breeze on her face, and smelled the sweet fragrance of the jasmine that grew on the fence along the path.
After some time, she was very weary from carrying her luggage. For what seemed like the 100th time she put all her bags down to rest her weary arms and wondered if she'd ever reach the train station with her arms still attached to her body. Just then she heard a car come up along the dusty old road and stop a little ways behind her. She turned and saw an older white-haired woman walking toward her. To Sierra's relief, the woman offered her a ride to the train station.
Once aboard the train, Sierra settled down in a seat next to the window. The train was fairly empty and quiet, and she was by herself alone with her bags and her thoughts. It seemed to take forever before the landscape around her started moving past the window and the sounds of the engines filled her ears. Sierra was gazing out the window for a long while when the train pulled into the next station. Gray clouds billowed out of nearby smoke stacks and people were hustling here and there in the business of the city. The quiet train came alive with the sounds of new passengers arriving with their bags and others leaving as they had reached their destination. Sierra remained lost in thought when a man sat down in the seat next to hers. She glonced over and said a polite hello to her new neighbor and he replied with a kind smile. As she returned to gazing out the window, her neighbor spoke.
"So, is your name Sierra?" his voice was kind and gentle, and she almost thought it sounded familiar.
"Yes", she replied, "how did you know?" But as soon as the words left her lips, she knew the answer.
"By your suitcase" said the stranger. "It is lovely. Have you had it long?"
Sierra wasn't overly fond of responing to questions about the bag, but his kind face did not seem like the critical type. So, she decided to answer.
"Yes, I have. In fact, I've had it so long that I'm not entirely sure when I did not have that old bag."
The man's kind eyes lit up. "Oh, so it's that kind of bag. That's what I suspected"
"What do you mean, that is what you suspected?" replied Sierra with a bit of an edge in her voice.
"Oh, I didn't mean to alarm you," said the stranger "I just have experience with such bags as I had one once before."
"Indeed, you do not know what kind of bag this is." replied Sierra defensively, "For I have tried many times to rid myself of it's presence and yet it always returns to me. To say you too have had a bag like mine and have it no longer proves it isn't a bag like mine at all."