She wheels a red carry-on
hardly higher than her knee,
not much wider than her waist
as I watch with wonder,
wishing I could do that,
could take essentials only.
Leave behind the extra black dress
packed in case I feel fat
in the print I planned to wear.

Why must I take six undies
for a two night stay? A spare
blouse in case I spill my coffee?
A second pair of shoes,
in case a heel breaks? 

Why can’t I be that woman
with the red carry-on?
Stepping through the airport
back straight, chin up
confident I have
everything I need
to face the world
away from home.