The Twenty Dollar Miracle

I never carry cash.  As a result, I don’t even carry a purse. I do have one but it stays at home like some relic from the past. Yet I remember never leaving the house without one in my handbag or back pocket. My father, a leatherworker, made my purses and handbags throughout my teens. They were always prized possessions. He never let me leave the house without a coin in my purse. It was his way of keeping me safe.

Today, I met a friend who asked me to buy her a newspaper. She gave me a twenty dollar note which I really didn’t want to take but she insisted. Carefully, I put it in the pocket of my sweatshirt. As I walked, I kept putting my hand in the pocket to feel for the note. As I neared the shop, I felt uneasy and decided to move the money to another pocket for safekeeping. For once I listened to that insistent inner voice.

At the cash register, I went to fish out the twenty-dollar note. It wasn’t in the pocket. I had lost the money! My first reaction was to feel foolish. Why did I move it from the pocket where it had been perfectly safe? Why did I listen to that insistent inner voice? Then, a far more rational thought calmed me. What difference would that twenty dollars make to how I live this day or even the week ahead? The impact was negligible. It was annoying but no great loss.

Many years ago, when I had nothing, finding even a five-dollar bill would have felt like a miracle. I remember taking a tram to a job interview with 40 cents in my pocket. That was the price of the one-way ticket. After the interview, I walked the eight kilometres back home in shoes I had borrowed from a friend. It took me longer than two hours. My feet blistered, and every step was agony. Wistfully, I watched the trams rattle past me.

I look back at that young girl with compassion and would love to let her know that one day she would no longer have to count her pennies. Today I hope with all my heart that someone in need has found that money and that it will feel like a small miracle come true.