Silver Dollar.

One surprisingly-sunny, late-winter day, as my daughter was figuring out her footing on the edge of a sidewalk, down hill, my apprehensions laid in my will aiding her to stay upright. As she continued to place one awkward foot in front of the other, something shiny caught my eye. I looked past her as she stepped down to safety and made my approach, as though it was placed right here, for me.

"Hey, what's this?" A rhetorical question, for as I made my approach and the dim silver shimmer informed me that is in fact currency, a significant currently at that. The mind's ability to determine things quickly, on display here as I discounted the possibility of a penny or nickel, even a quarter was too small, maybe a fifty-cent piece? No, not that either, for it was a little smaller than that.

"Ah, it's a silver dollar!" I exclaim to my careless daughter and a wife who was too far ahead to take note of what she might have assumed another piece of garbage I found.

I have always been synonymous with picking up random things and deeming them interesting. My wife even recalls a story told to her by friends of me once picking a dropped sandwich out of a bar garbage because, "well, it was mine."

Through my elatedness to find treasure exposed and after church on that, I immediately had to jump into "dad" mode again where my awareness of traffic and the never-surprising cries of a toddler whom does not want to again be strapped in a car seat. Through the chaos of entering a slightly-warmed vehicle, I mindlessly place the coin in the slot next to my seat. I consider nothing of it, as I attempt casual niceties with my spouse, she remained silent. I was a jerk on that morning, shorter than usual, and for this reason, she was not ready to be jovial with me.

...

When I came outside in the wee hours of the morning, preparing for a quick walk to oblige the dog, I noticed the old business cards scattered on the ground. 

"What the heck." As my curiosity was first peaked, then an abhorrent feeling as I reach for an unlocked car door and the dome light illuminates the mess inside. 

"Dang it." I once again had left my vehicle unlocked and my car was again ransacked. My quick assessment of inventory revealed nothing of real value to take. Still, the mess and, what is this...? In the driver's seat there was a scope to a hunting rifle I assume and a leather satchel wrapped around it, and on the inside, insurance information. This combination package was wrapped up in the tattered shirt I placed over the driver-side seat. 

"Ah, well, at least they left identifying information?" As I make the joke to myself, it hits me that the "robbers" might not yet be gone, and they might still be around. As a shocking feeling strikes fear of my environment, I decide to go inside and call the cops. 

When the cop arrives and rings the doorbell, and after the dogs get settled, I go out to greet him and his inquisitive ways. The police officer is sharing with me about vehicles getting broken into, about how this happens, and how odd it was to find the scope, leather bag combination. the conclusion is that nothing can really be done about this, except to report it so other people can be aware of keeping their cars and garages locked up. 

It wasn't much of a consolidation, but the officer and I made a few jokes, reported to know a few similar people, and I was able to finish the walk with my dog and even make the gym. Nothing seemed to be missing initially, and I thanked God for my wallet being in the house that night, for I had gotten it stolen last time, and the chore alone of canceling cards was enough to never want to happened again. 

...

A few days pass before I start to recall what exactly was in my vehicle at the time it was ransacked, for it was not technically, "broken into" as my wife reminds me, it was left, "unlocked." I notice my satchel which contained a few writing books, and a notebook where my priceless ideas were contained missing. I noticed my insurance information was moved and a few small items were taken without being important enough to really miss. Minor inconveniences, for I was not allowed to get rid of them, they were mine and they were taken, an in validating feeling. 

As I then began taking a mental inventory as to what else was missing, I notice my coin was gone. This little piece of currency and the short relationship we had together made me miss it already. Not as a poor child misses a dollar for they cannot buy candy, but as a piece of memorabilia or a valuable heirloom. Though this coin was neither, I still felt it was given to me, and now it was gone, and I hadn't the opportunity it appreciate it. 

I tell my wife of my loss and she reminds me to lock my vehicle, for she is practical and right, and sooo pretty, but I felt a little saddened and decided to investigate the absence of a coin that was never "mine" to begin with. I did not earn this coin. I did not receive this coin as a token of appreciation or payment for anything. It wasn't even my birthday when I found it, and in fact, I wasn't doing very well that day. Yet, somehow, I was bummed. 

Then it hit me, a finally relieving fact that I came to through experiences in life and promoting my own journey through shared stories of inadequacy. "This person needed it more than me, they must have." The rainbow at the end of the stormy pity pot. I was no longer feeling sorry for myself, but instead felt sorry for someone who felt that they needed something so bad they would risk jail time and even harm another person's livelihood. 

I felt for the people who did this that day, and not in a haughty way, but in a way like an adult sees a child fall down, like in a way that we know the pain to come, but we can't do anything to stop it. For it is this observation where all parties are at a loss, but the guilty parties are the one who have to suffer the consequences of their own actions. For them I am sad for and hope they can find something more. 

My book, Castle-Broken tells of a man with body image disorders and how I was able to make necessary changes that can help others. Thank you and God Bless. 

Click HERE for the book.