My grandmother passed away last year. She worked hard all her life, and like me, had an extreme love of handbags. As a little girl, I was "the chosen one". I was allowed to look in her purse, while my sisters and cousins would look over in awe at my ability to look in Granny's purse without the slightest fear in my eyes. She always had her handbag near her, even when she became bedridden, and could no longer care for herself.

When Granny died, she had quite a bit of money in her account. Everyone else lined up for their share, (cousins even spoke of getting "their check" at her funeral...disgusts me to even think about it), but all I wanted were her bags. Very much loved, worn and tattered, but after all, I was "the chosen one"...I had to protect them, even after she was gone.