I cannot move. I’m standing in front of the conveyor belt, clutching my skis and duffel bag tightly to my side. I’ve been excited about this trip for so long and it’s finally here. This is going to be my vacation– this is going to be my fun.

But I cannot move. All the other passengers have come to claim their bags. Most had light duffels, small suitcases or skis like me. We are all here for the same reason, we are all here for fun. Still, I stare at the conveyor belt, mesmerized by the single piece of luggage possibly lost and definitely unclaimed. It’s rotating round and around. No one had come to get it. It doesn’t belong here in ski town. It is big, heavy and black. It looks businesslike and cumbersome. Most likely the airline had transported it to the wrong place– it doesn’t belong here.

I want it. I watch it come around again and I feel the yearning and tugging in my heart. I am drawn to it. It is stuffed to capacity, I know I can’t even lift it off the belt if I tried. It doesn’t belong to me but I am bothered that no one has come to possess it. I want it for myself. I am running late for check-in at the hotel but I know I won’t make it on time. I am where I want to be; standing and coveting this luggage…wanting something I cannot have.