The Backpack There's a backpack I'm always wearing. It's worn in like the purple canvas Jansport I carried through middle school and high school. Comfortable and sturdy. Faded and covered with patches and pins collected over the years. When I close my eyes, I can still feel the worn straps pressing gently into my shoulders. I can smell the faint mustiness of old canvas. I can still see the water stains from the day a flash flood filled the backseat of my little faded red 1983