The Red Suitcase

After having lunch with a friend of mine today, I splashed my way across the rain puddles between the Mexican restaurant and the car. Along the flooded sidewalk, an unusual sight caught my attention. There was a young man, probably in his early twenties, walking purposefully as he was pelted with cold droplets from the gray clouds. Behind him, he rolled a dripping red suitcase. From whence he came, I could not discern; his clothes were saturated and his hair was clinging to his head in a way which gave him a non-human appearance. Intrigued with watching his progress, I sat quietly in the car. What possessions might he have in the red suitcase he pulls? After awhile, the young man stopped walking. He let go of the red suitcase, and it wobbled briefly before finally toppling over onto the wet sidewalk. He lifted his face skyward, letting the rain fall into his eyes and mouth, down his neck and across his chest. He remained in that position for some time, eyes transfixed on infinity above us. A few moments passed, and I continued to watch as he took a step forward, abandoning the red suitcase on the sidewalk. At first, I thought it was strange that he left the red suitcase there. Suddenly, it occurred to me that perhaps he had no possessions in that red suitcase at all. Perhaps what he had been carrying in the red suitcase were his fears and doubts, his worries and regrets. I began to realize that the scene I had witnessed in the rain was not an act of quiet desperation, but rather, a metamorphosis. Seeing this transformation was undoubtedly a teaching from the universe. Today, on my birthday, I decided to abandon my own red suitcase!