My story involves a penny and a little person. Let’s begin with the penny.
I have a mystical attachment to pennies. Found money is extraordinarily lucky. Everywhere I go, I’m in the habit of finding lucky money on the street. Sums range from the single penny in a puddle to the fifty-dollar bill that had blown into my driveway the day after a gale-force windstorm.
I’ve also encountered freakishly placed piles of coins. One day as I walked home from work, I encountered three separate piles of coins blocks apart in downtown Seattle. The total haul accumulated from all three piles was over three dollars. One of my favorite
finds was exiting Grand Central Station onto Lexington Avenue during rush hour, where I found two crumpled one-dollar bills; it was as if someone tossed them at me like a ball solely for my amusement.
I stash lucky money in funny places. Coins are deposited into piggy banks made from ceramic, bronze, leather or glass. Dollar bills are stuck surreptitiously in between the pages of well-worn books. I save my lucky money. The coins, I keep forever. The tens, twenties, and the fifty, are used to buy a unique present for someone whom I love deeply.
A
Penny
for Your
Thoughts
by Patricia Vaccarino