by Silver E Moon

Created on: February 06, 2009

I want to be a bag lady.

This in its self seems like the impossible dream. What heights of aspiration would bring anyone to even consider such a lofty vocation? The physical demand is astronomical, and qualifying is as elusive as the lone sock that seems to find its way out of the dryer, even though it was fully documented when placed in there with its mate. I never realized the potential of what it could mean to be a bag lady until I sat one day and watched my would be mentor maliciously deal with the barking dogs, rowdy cats, and defiant rodents as she made her way about her turf. What poise I marveled, what agility, as she sidestepped the puddle of who knows what, what dexterity, as she manipulated her stick to explore a pile of unknown substances, yes until that point I never realized the benefits of being a bag lady. Little did I know about the true dedication one must have to follow such a career.

My excitement overwhelmed me as I lunged to my feet and made my way ever so reverently toward her, I knew I was in the presence of greatness. I could tell by the tattered jacket, the brilliantly crushed fedora, and the elegance of her cart that she was a true pioneer, a woman among women, destined to crash through the glass ceiling to lead the way for all bag ladies and I wanted to be by her side. Yes, I knew now as tears filled my eyes, I had searched all my life for this one moment. Finally I knew what my destiny was meant to be. If only she would take me under her wing and teach me to follow in her footsteps. I was unworthy to walk by her side; the best I could hope for would be that she might allow me to follow at a discrete distance humble and unworthy. A lump formed in my throat at the thought of becoming her disciple and learning from the great master of bag ladies. It was an aspiration of such magnitude I could scarcely believe I would even attempt such loftiness, until this point a person of no direction, unable to fathom what I wanted to be when I grew up, but now thanks to this angel of the alleys I finally had direction and purpose.

I approached the queen of the carts and not knowing the proper way to address one of such stature I cleared my throat in announcement of my presence. Unwittingly I was too close and received a smart rap upside my head as she wheeled in response to my vocalization. Taken unawares (I should have expected such a reaction from a professional), I found myself planted squarely on my posterior in the middle of the alley, and feeling

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