My Dear - 6

To Blue Book

What a pain you have become, my little blue book! A mill stone around my bleeding neck. You are not welcome anywhere, my blue companion. I am treated with suspicion when they see me carrying you around. Send sniffer dogs behind my back. And pry open my suitcase for dangerous wepons. How I wish I could throw you away and get another one!

But it wasn't always like this, I remember. I applied for you, my little book, months before I turned 18 and the day you arrived by post, it felt momentous. I was the first in the family to have one and I went around the house showing you off. As if I had earned you somehow. Some weeks later, you had your first little stamp and soon we were on a plane to a distant land.

You and I have been through some interesting times together. Do you remember the time, when I lost you in a far away place? And spent all morning crying my eyes out because, suddenly, I was nobody. A non-entity. And then you sprung up out of the blue. Someone had found you discarded in a rubbish pile. The money from my wallet was gone but you had been left behind. Even the burglar had little use for you.

And this morning, thanks to you, I was reminded once again where I stand in the hierarchy. How tempted I was to trade you in for a spanking new burgundy coloured booklet with an embossed crown on top. Then I could flash my new book everywhere and be granted entry almost instantly. I would be privileged. And be considered important.

But I hesitate. You are more than just a collection of stamped pages to me. You are my passport. To a place I call home.

Yours,

Confused.