Coco

For thirty-one years, I had two things on my wish list (okay, for the sake of argument, right) and for those two things, I wanted to swipe my own debit card through the machine. Number one I slipped onto my wrist for my thirtieth birthday and now, in the most expensive month of the year (yolo), I can also cross off number two. It was Saturday morning at eleven when I made a little girl’s dream come true between my workout and the first cup of coffee. Others make a big deal out of it and pop the bottle at the moment supreme. I decided to keep it quiet and alone. On my bike and without the approval of a love, I pressed the green button with my eyes tightly shut and cycled home as if my life depended on it, to place the poor child wrapped in a forgotten corner. At least I could make it a Christmas gift… Madame Coco, dazzlingly beautiful, perfectly sized, sparkling gold chains, and buttery soft lamb leather. She is finally mine.

Now you’re wondering where I’m going to put the next checkmark. The money is gone. Love of my life, it’s your turn. Then my debit card can at least stay put.