I was at the store today. I saw a really cute purse staring at me from its place on the shelf. It beckoned to me. I tried to resist. The sales lady did not help any when she said, “I just love that purse! It’s our last one too.”
I do not need another purse. I love the one I own—blue with matching wallet. It’s bright and beautiful and fun . . . old, but still useful. The new purse was blue as
well. . . and did I mention that it was new? I did not need another blue purse. Logically, I knew this. I was just looking was all. I held it, slinging it over my shoulder. The sales lady nodded approvingly.
“No,” I said. “I don’t need another blue purse.” And as I placed it upon the shelf and turned to walk away, the “Purse God,” seeing my reluctance, used its power of persuasion and caused the strap of my old blue purse to break—the chain and strappy hardware fell off and my old purse hit the floor. The portion to hold the shoulder strap to the bag was unfixable.
The sales lady picked up the new purse, her mouth and eyes wide open, and simply handed it to me saying nothing. We both knew it was no longer a matter of want, but a matter of need.
Some may say coincidence, but I say it was fate. Bizarre, maybe. Why would my old purse break at just that moment?
It was destiny.