Going on trips is such a bag of mixed emotions for me. Will she have the guts to wear me (excitement), and will her gut be small enough to make room for the other, less adjustable side (anxiety)? So it was with butterflies that I got into the bright red bag her mother gave her with its white viney leaves twining about on the outside and satin lining on the inside. A nice complement to my dark navy with delicate white twiney leaves vining around from top to skirt.

There are advantages to being made of wrinkle free material. I don’t mind being stuffed in the trunk along with 4 other people’s things for one thing. And I am impervious to temperature. But I don’t like sweat, so the cool morning spent going southward has pleasant associations for me despite not being worn at the time. I could just imagine what fields of coreopsis and firewheels must have been scenting the breezes that siphoned into the boot of the car, as those posh English say. Then as we neared the coastal flatlands, humidity and salt creeped in. The loud ferry sounds must have bothered the girls in the cab because I could hear them opening and closing their windows while alternately complaining about the horns and the humidity in the late warm afternoon. That was until the ferry set off and they were allowed to leave me behind. I heard screams of being chilled and salted, then a rush of footsteps up the stairs, with more screams against the wind blowing up her shirt a bit. She needed me! I would have kept her protected! Except my skirt does have a tendency to fly up and she doesn’t think the pants are pantslike enough, modest thing. Then I barely heard, “Oh look, dolphins!” They sounded happy, so the extra hour driving to the peninsula was worth it.