The Old Leather Jacket

Dear Delyara, I put on my old leather jacket today. It’s scuffed at the elbows and the zipper sticks, but it smells like every adventure I’ve had in the last decade. It feels like armor. When I wear it, I walk a little taller. It’s funny how an object can hold so much of your identity. I don't think I’ll ever be able to throw it away, even when the lining starts to shred. It’s a map of who I’ve been.