The Old Green Duffel Bag That Taught a Town How to Breathe

I reached up, took the old green duffel off the hook by my door, and dropped it on my desk so hard the stapler jumped.

That bag had been hanging there for nine years.

Most students thought it belonged to my late husband, who served in the Army.

They were half right.

It had been his.

But after he died, I kept it because I understood something he never said out loud: people can look perfectly fine and still be carrying enough weight to crush them.