A Vera Bradley Adult

when a $20 eBay purchase says it all

Sometime last week, Very Harry Hill shared an Archival Vera Bradley bag he found on eBay for $20. Blue and white with a border of flowers around the top. Like something your cozy aunt would bring to a gentle summer holiday, stuffed with an extra sweater, a paperback, celery sticks and a bag of oatmeal cookies. I completely forgot that Vera Bradley existed, but the moment I saw Harry sporting that Chaotic Good print, I knew what I needed to do.

Long ago, Vera Bradley backpacks and big tote bags rested on the shoulders of Older People. My Stylish California Grandmother had one or two, effortlessly pairing them with her blue jeans and worn in cotton button ups. I loved their soft quilted texture, the surprising playful patterns, but I could never wear Vera. That stuff was for Older People. So of course I felt a connection—I was born old. My classmates always seemed young and careless.

At home, I took on responsibilities that demanded a level of maturity beyond my years. Monitoring my mother’s medication, making her dinner and bringing it to her in bed. When she got up, watching her every step, because I’d seen her collapse mid-sentence. Everything else was child’s play. I’d go to school and attempt levity, thinking of my mother every other moment. Was she sleeping? Did she wake up and wonder where I was? How was she feeling? Did she take her medication? Did she take too much?

Every so often, my Grandmother would try and hand off an old Vera Bradley makeup bag or pencil case. I’d refuse, playing it cool. Truthfully, Vera Bradley took up lots of my mental real estate. For many years I thought Vera Wang was the couture arm of Bradley’s quilted accessories. Eventually I found more youthful brands to fixate on, spending my free time prowling the Urban Outfitters sale section and Goodwill piles.

So when Harry posted this Vera Bradley wonder in his story, it activated a whole chain of events. First I thought, oh how nice, Vera. And I closed the app. Then I thought, holy shit, Vera for twenty dollars? I don’t have much extra spending money, but what if I could find a deal! What if I could finally have a Vera?? The implications swirled before me, drawing my hands to type E BAY DOT COM I felt a sense of urgency, what if everyone on the internet jumped into the same search?? Harry’s 77k followers could clean out the archival stock.

At first, all I found were crazy colors—turquoise and buttercup and light teal. Maybe this isn’t for me. I took a breath, checked the time. Shit, where did that hour go? I was late. I grabbed my computer and jumped on the 5 Freeway to the 110 to the 10 West. As of late, both my parents have needed extra help. My dad is in two different treatments for cancer, my mom is getting big dental work done. When one of them is down, the other has learned to step up. But right now, they’re both paddling with one oar in different rivers. My dad hates to ask for help, my mother does it in sideways motions. Half the battle is assessing exactly what needs to be done.

In the midst of this detective work, I look for secret codes to balance my personal life and my family’s needs. This is a fairly new thing—the balance of it all. I used to throw everything out the window whenever I was needed in the slightest. At certain intervals, there was no room for my own breath. I said yes to everything, sculpting my hours around the schedules of care.

Now that I’ve built a life of my own, I have to be accountable for my time. Placing boundaries that maintain empathy for me and my parents can be tough. It’s honestly harder than just giving every last breath. I raised myself to care for others, harnessing that oldness in my spirit. I never looked in the mirror at my straw blonde hair and crooked teeth smile, the reality of youth ready to greet me. But now I’m trying to embrace the multitudes and enjoy where I am right now.

And when Harry posted that Vera Bradley, I could feel all the pieces clicking together. Once on the westside, I showed my dad the Vera pieces on eBay.

Do you remember these?
Oh yeah, I think your grandmother had something like that.

Yes.

Two dozen eBay tabs later, I found the perfect one. A small black shoulder bag decorated with red and white drops. $20.73. Just last week I was dreaming about a small bag. Right now all my vessel are big enough to fit my laptop and a few snacks. Practical, yes, but not all occasions are pure utility.

My dad thought the bag was great, if a little petite—he likes practical utility. But he understood my small bag argument. I pressed purchase and felt a wave crash of excitement. This could be big. It’s just a bag? No it’s Vera Bradley. I usually take time to think about purchases, saving the item, closing the computer, coming back to look at the image over and over. This happened in 2 hours and 3 minutes—and one of those hours was spent driving west. I responded to Harry’s story when I first saw the bag and proudly sent him my purchase:

The rush was real!

So the package arrived two days ago, just in time for another set of parental appointments on the westside. I clawed open the filmy plastic and found the bag in perfect condition. Soft and quilted, Tempur-pedic mattress meets sliced bread. It slid onto my shoulder with such ease, like it was ready to meet me all along.

I filled it with my phone, wallet, keys and once again drove west. Upon entering my parents apartment, my dad clocked the bag. Nice, that looks great! Wow feel that quilted texture. I told him I wanted a photo to commemorate the purchase, but first I ferried my mother to a dentist appointment. The bag came with.

Later when the sun was shimmying down the palm trees, I joined my parents on their walk. I always love to catch the ocean air and my mother insisted on walking off the novocaine. On the way, I tried to get a photo of the Vera next to a Waymo, the self driving cars flooding the streets of Santa Monica. Just after a couple shots, the empty car pulled away with a ghostly glide—freakyyy.

Then we got lucky with a true summer sunset, hot pink cloud banks hovering above the silver ocean. My mother stopped to take photos of the view, before insisting my father and I get in the frame.

We never took photos growing up, this shift to casual family pictures feels significant—as though we’ve quietly agreed there is something worthwhile to remember. My mother used to hang blankets over the mirrors, now we stop and document our reflections, praising the forces that sustained us through the years. I gave up on getting the perfect Vera Bradley shot, maybe it was just enough to have the bag. But this morning, I looked through the photos, just to see if there was anything I could cobble together for a funny Vera Bradley/Very Harry Hill tribute post.

Hmm…maybe something with the Waymo? The intersection between past and future? Except the photos are scratchy and flared because the lens on my point and shoot is all scuffed.

Then I got to the pix of me and my dad next to the sunset. His eyes are closed in most of them, but our resemblance jumps out, three dimensional against the dreamy pinks and blues.

There I was with my Vera Bradley I found on eBay for $20.73. There I was with my dad, who sometimes feels like a younger brother. Taken on iPhone by my mother who sometimes feels like a younger sister. Who is the adult in the room? Was it me, with the Old Person bag slung comfortably over her shoulder? But I look cute and young and my dad looks great too.

In this photo, my dad is holding Joey, her neon green leash is piled in my hands. Joey’s become a meeting point between us. She’s obsessed with my parents, she stays with them when I’m away. They are healthy enough to include a third being in their life. A being that is totally unable to help with chores or errands or any practical utility. I look at her brand new leash and can’t help but see my family’s lines of care overlapping, intertwined. The intense love in my childhood, tangled with the responsibility.

More than anything, I want to give my parents the world. Or at least long term comfort. While upholding my own boundaries. All while wearing my Vera Bradley bag. I never thought this eBay purchase would bring up so much.

Technically, I’ve always been the child. Even when my mother used to joke and say your real parents should be coming to get you anyday now. I let go of child status far too early. Usually I’m proud of that maturity and the strength I earned with it. As the years unfurl, I find myself looking more and more for the Child. Drawing her out with treats and forms of play.

When she does emerge, I give her space, trying to notice what makes her feel at ease. I want to wrap her in a soft quilt straight from the Vera Bradley workshop and tell her it’s okay to just be young a little while longer. That time isn’t as linear as we thought. We can even exist together—anything is possible when you find a Vera Bradley for $20.73.

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