Found my old flight bags in the garage

Sitting in the garage tonight, I pulled out the two flight bags I carried for the last fifteen years. The leather on the handles is worn smooth from the weight of thousands of checklists and fuel vouchers. I remember breaking them in, how stiff they were, and now they're as soft as an old pair of boots. Sitting there with them, it hit me how much of my life is folded into those creases.