I seldom walk out my front door without thinking, "Whoa, have I got my purse?" Then I'll feel the familiar tug of the shoulder strap. I'll stop a moment to rummage, checking for my wallet, my checkbook, feeling the edges of a plastic card tucked within. I don't feel right going out without a few twenties or a fifty hiding in my wallet's folds. These are the forms of money that I "need" to have with me even if I don't plan to shop. I'm not the only one. Rarely do you find a woman without cash on her, no matter how paltry the sum, "Ah, it's there; I'm safe," she thinks. We might touch the bills for reassurance. It's that comforting feel of cash, the miraculous commodity that keeps life moving -- pays the grocer, the postal clerk, tips a waitress.
But it's more than that. You don't think money can buy happiness. Maybe it can't, but it certainly seems to stand for it. Fixed in my worn wallet are limitless possibilities for nurturing myself. No longer is money a source of shame and ambiguity in my life. Nowadays, whether I drive my car, pick up a birthday present, or splurge on another orchid, I celebrate this gift we call money.
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Your words today especially resonate with me. I also have that secret stash of cash that I can use if I run short while I'm out, or want to dispense some without leaving tracks. You didn't mention a "cookie jar," but don't we all have one of those?!
I too feel that one of my major blessings of recent years is the ability to quit worrying about pinching every penny, so I also have a special joyful awareness of the ability to spend -- or share.
Thank you for sharing your insights. They mean a lot.
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