Black Leather Pouch

I stood before the mirror in my violet cotton shirt and jeans from the Gap, with combed brown hair falling just below my shoulders, my backpack in tow. Small but mighty, there I was, ready to be one of the big kids now. I held on tightly to my mom's hand on the corner of Hazel and Greenleaf, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the yellow school bus to take me off to my first day as a 1st grader. She sensed my nerves and knelt down beside me, placing a small black leather pouch necklace in my hand. "Put this around your neck and whenever you start to feel scared or lonely at school, just rub the pouch and I'll be there," she said with a smile. I clutched the pouch in my hand as the school bus pulled up to the corner and opened its doors. Charlie the bus driver welcomed kids with a warm smile, but I didn't want to let go of mom's hand. With the pouch in my right hand, and her hand in my left, everything was right. But as the last of the other kids boarded the bus, I knew it was time to let go of mom's hand. I waved one more time from the bus as I sat down on the sticky brown school bus seats. I looked out the window trying to hold onto my mom with my eyes until I couldn't see her anymore. I felt the tears begin to well, and my lower lip trembled, the only thing I wanted was to be back with my mom. I took the pouch out of my hand, and slipped it over my head onto my neck. Closing my eyes I rubbed the pouch, and just like she said, she was there with me holding my hand. Years later on a humid day in late September I stood in front of the mirror in my apartment, wearing a yellow tank top and a loose brown skirt, my short hair pulled back in a ponytail. As the time came for me to leave, all I wanted to do was cry. I wish mom was here to hold my hand, I thought, looking down at my empty hands. I grabbed my bag from my chair, and a worn black leather pouch fell from the chair onto the carpet. I stared at it for just a moment, and then picked it up and tied it tightly to the strap on my bag. As I walked into the room for my first day as a big girl in the real world. I realized I was rubbing the pouch with the fingers on my right hand, just as I did on the first day of the 1st grade. I knew she was there with me holding my hand through my struggles, just like she promised me years earlier while waiting for the bus on the corner of Hazel and Greenleaf.