Wednesday, March 7, 2012

mad money

About four years ago.
For whatever reason.
I don't remember.
I had been carrying a 100 dollar bill.
In my purse.
For days.
To spend on anything.
Nothing in particular.

One day.
I reached in.
To grasp the bill.
To use.


I came up empty handed.
So I peered in closely.
Inspecting each and every pocket.
To no avail.

The $100 was gone.
Or stolen.
I have no clue.

I let it go.
Didn't get mad.
Didn't see the point.
The money was gone.
And I doubted.
I would ever know where.

So, I simply went on with my day.

At the time.
Bradford was eight.
In the 3rd grade.
And was curious by my reaction.

You don't care?
That it's gone?
That someone probably took it?
He questioned.

Yes, and no.
I told him.
Yes, because that is dishonest if someone took it.
And no.
It's only money.

That's weird!
Brad said.
So weird.
That you don't care.

All I can say.
Is that I hope he learned something.
That day.

That money isn't what's important.
Not always.

It's how you handle a situation.
That matters.

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