by Barbara L. Barnes
Change is frustrating and annoying.
No matter my efforts, coins obey gravity, falling into my purse’s deep pit, adding pounds to my load.
When paying a bill, I blindly mine and probe my bag’s depths, never unearthing the correct coinage.
The checkout counter’s “take a penny/leave one” tray stymies me. Dare I take one? Should I leave one?
I confuse cashiers; I pay a $1.98 tab with two dollars three pennies, efficiently exchanged for one nickel.
Blame today’s schools for not teaching the arithmetic of currency weight reduction.
Change is upbeat and fun.
It fuels one-armed bandits plying giddy games of chance in casinos —
using currency often viewed as trivial, given that it won’t fold.
Still, piggy banks grow fat on the coerced contributions from grannies and aunties.
A toddler wheedles from doting elders the big silver coins rather than orange ones for the stash —
his destiny secured as the successful investor who he will become.
Change is hard and daunting.
It is as solid and unyielding as a diamond without the sparkle.
The hardest change isn’t coinage but life passages —
change not pressed from precious metals but knit from clouds, fog, and mist.
Change hides around the bend, past the horizon, past the view. It is dark, scary, chilling.
Even positive change creates unease, worry, and angst.
Change creating fear is weak and worthless.
Let gravity pull your change down to your purse’s darkest depths. It will do so, regardless of your efforts.
Trust that you will mine sufficient metallic change as needed when life’s changes arise,
or perhaps you’ll find that helpful “take a penny” tray compensating for the shortfall.
Image source: https://tinyurl.com/mvc4a2hj