I don’t know why I bought the purse. It wasn’t really the kind of purse I usually buy. And certainly not the color. It never occurred to me as I examined it that it would one day threaten a wonderful friendship.
It’s pink. Well, not a bright pink. Actually, I’m not sure it could be called pink. It’s more of a?faded pink. Until you get it out in the sunlight. Then it’s almost pink. Well, not bright pink but brighter than faded pink.
It had a matching glasses case, umbrella and coin purse. But most of all, it was on sale. “Be strong,” I thought when I saw the sale sign. “Just walk on by. You can do it. You are woman!”
“Oh baloney,” my alter ego answered. “It’s on sale, for crying out loud. Buy the darn thing.”
So I did. I didn’t take it out of the sack for a few days. I almost forgot what it looked like, or why I even wanted it. Except that it was on sale.
“It’s pink,” I thought when I finally did take it out of the sack. Not bright pink. But, there’s no doubt it’s pink. Nobody my age carries a pink purse.
I tried to give it to my daughter. ‘It’s pink,” she said. “Why did you buy a pink purse?”
I tried to give it to my granddaughter. ‘It’s pink,” she said. “Why did you buy a pink purse?”
I couldn’t return it because we used the umbrella. So, it sat on a shelf in the closet. Every time I looked at it I was reminded I am a weak, shallow, selfish?woman obsessed with sale signs.
Then my friend called and offered to deliver some clothing I had packed up to donate to a thrift store. I was thrilled to get the boxes out of the garage and pleased this dear, dear, kind, thoughtful friend had offered to deliver my donations with hers.
The purse, I thought! The not bright but brighter than faded pink purse. Someone will be happy to get a brand new purse even if we did lose the umbrella. I added it to a box and felt a great relief when it was gone.
I never thought about it again, until some other friends and I?met at the dear, dear, kind, thoughtful friend’s house. We were getting ready to leave when the friend – who stressed she didn’t want her name in this column – yelled for everyone to come see her new purse.
There she stood. Holding my brighter than faded pink purse! I just stood there, looking at the purse.
“That’s my purse,” I stated. “That’s my purse!? What are you doing with my purse? I love that purse.”
My, my. How my dear, dear, kind, thoughtful friend was enjoying the moment. She had a big grin on her face and was holding the purse up to be sure everyone could see it. They were fussing over my purse. My friends liked the purse.
“I want my purse back,” I said. Nobody paid any attention to me. They were too busy fussing over the?purse.
Seems my friend?- who really isn’t all that dear I’ve since decided – liked the purse and bought it for $5 when they got to the shop. $5. My beautiful pink purse for $5.
Then, as if that isn’t enough, she carried it during our excursion to Wichita. My purse. My brighter than faded pink purse. She carried it everywhere. Right in front of me.
Is it any wonder she didn’t want her name in my column?
Just keep your eyes open, people. Watch for a woman carrying a brighter than faded pink purse. You’ll know her for sure if it’s raining because her umbrella won’t match her purse.
Then you just march right up to her, look her in the eye, and say, “I hate your purse!”
