I lost a hundred-dollar bill the other day.
I lost a hundred-dollar bill the other day.
It must have happened on my way to the market.
Would it just end up torn or lost in the gutter?
By the time I went to pay for my items, it was nowhere to be found.
No. Whoever ended up finding it was having one lucky day.
A sense of panic crept in.
Would they put it to good use, or just blow it over the next few hours?
I deduced that it could be one of two places:
Hopefully it went to someone who needed it more than me.
1) On the sidewalk along the route that I took, it could have fallen out of my pocket when I answered a phone call; or
I thought about what I would have bought with that hundred dollars.
2) Back at home somewhere in my apartment because I had just tossed it around and never actually got to putting it in my wallet.
Nothing too important: mostly just restaurant tabs.
Hours later when I got back to my apartment, I looked for the hundred dollar bill.
It’s not that I was feeling particularly rich at the time.
It wasn’t on the couch or the coffee table, or on my bed or the floor.
I just knew I could eventually get over the loss with no real bruises.
I accepted my loss.
There would be more money coming my way in the future, and I still had enough to get me by until that happened.
I picked up some clothes to toss in the laundry and guess what fell out.
I’m grateful for having “lost” that hundred-dollar bill the other day.
It took me on a journey that I otherwise would have missed.
No comments:
Post a Comment