“My shtreimel box will go in the suitcase, right?” my husband innocently asked
When my husband and I were newlyweds, we bought a suitcase. We chose a teal-colored one, so we could easily identify it among a sea of black suitcases in an airport.
Before every trip — and we traveled often as newlyweds — I opened that suitcase and packed. I packed my husband’s clothing. I packed his Shabbos shoes. I packed his tallis bag and his shtreimel box and that sefer he wanted to take along, and that one also, yes, thanks.
Then I packed my own stuff. I packed clothing. And more clothing. The clothing I planned on wearing, the just-in-case clothing, and also the just-in-case-just-in-case clothing. I packed cosmetics and pharmaceuticals and slippers and Shabbos shoes and a Shabbos robe and a snood and another snood, and a snood to match the just-in-case-just-in-case sweater.
I packed pretty skirts and comfortable skirts and shoes to go with each of those skirts. I packed long-sleeved shells and sleeveless shells and just-in-case shells to go with just-in-case sweaters. I packed books and magazines, and another book in case I ran out of reading material.
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