anthony's briefcase used to be my mom's work briefcase. in one of the trips to my parents house, he laid claim to the item destined for good will. since he acquired it, he has taken it on every family vacation we've had, loading it with all his favorite possessions and distractions, that will fit into its rectangular space.

when the family is not traveling he stores his money in it (when we do travel his money gets put in our home's secret hidey-hole where we hide all the things of value staying back). the other day as i read on the porch i heard the distant ring of the ice cream truck. as it got closer i heard the shrill calls of ICE CREAM TRUCK get shouted from various floors and corners of the house as the whimsical melody reached the children's ears. a youth's call to arms if there ever was one. one by one the children shot out of the house like bullets, leaping from the porch to the lawn in a single stride and sprinting off in the direction of the tune. first bella, a five dollar bill in her clenched fist, then alex, carrying his giant looking velcro-wallet in his hand and then, a surprising amount of time later, anthony emerged onto the porch, carrying his heavy-with-coins briefcase with both hands. he frantically looked up and down the street trying to figure out which direction the others ran. seeing me he asked which way. wordlessly, i pointed a finger up the street and he set out, running in choppy strides given both his hands were at one side hefting his crazily big suitcase and desperately calling out "wait up. wait for me.".