Oh the places you’ll go…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 5, 2010 . 9:51AM

Last week, I was in class and fumbled in my pocket for the quarters that were there. In a 4 hour class that runs in the evening hours, it is almost impossible to go without a bottle of water or a snack. I was living on the one slice of peanut butter coated bread I’d brought with me that was supposed to last the whole day, but my mouth felt like sandpaper and my lips like little cactus pricklies.

Pricklies is a real word. And if you don’t believe me, don’t you dare play Scrabble with me, ever. I mean it.

It’s hot here.

That was a redundant statement. It’s hot like those peppers that if you eat the whole pepper it will eat your stomach from the inside out are hot.

Everyone was smart enough to bring water to class, but I had a peanut butter sandwich. Not just any peanut butter. The stick to your friend if you blow them a kiss while eating it peanut butter, which is also known as Peter Pan. Because of “the Pan” the SmartWater the size of Mexico I brought with me was gone within 10 minutes of class starting which also necessitated me leaving class an average of 12 times per hour.

So, I ran out of water and I didn’t exactly trust the water fountains. No, there was a time I walked by and there was poop in one of those fountains. I’ll get bottled water. Sometimes, I have no quarters, but, by golly, I had a single dollar and 4 quarters. On break, a scheduled one, not a Smartwater necessitated one, I grabbed a water and threw the quarters in my pocket.

Later, as I was thinking about the “England!” incident with A.J. and the quarter question at trivia, I pulled the remaining quarters out of my pocket and examined them closely. One was from 2006 and had nothing that made it different than any other quarter. Another from 2005 was the same. However, the third was an old style quarter with the eagle on the back. This one I examined more closely. The edges were worn smooth and George Washington’s hair had no definition. The year was 1966.

1966. Long before I was born. How many hands held this quarter? How many pockets? How many wallets? Had anyone famous held this quarter? Infamous? How many children bought something special with this quarter? Had it been in piggy banks? Jars for saving? Retirement funds? How many cans of soda had this quarter bought for someone as thirsty as I was? That quarter has been around through so many historical events, just traveling the world. Or has it been sitting in someone’s home collecting dust until someone cleaned out a carpet or a couch? Was it in a landfill?

The one thing I know is this: That rough edged quarter has seen more life than I ever will.

I slowly put it back in my pocket and wondered where it will go when it leaves my hands.