I cry a lot, in case you didn’t know.
Not just about the big things, like our recent miscarriage or losing a friend or moving away. But about stupid things, too, like wanting to see a movie but not having money left in the budget to do that this month.
Luckily I have a husband who doesn’t care that I cry over stupid things. In fact, when I cry over stupid things he does everything he can to make me feel better.
So when I cried on Saturday morning about wanting to see Insurgent, Alec worked very hard to make the day a good one—even though we needed to avoid spending money.
He scoured the Internet for free activities in the area, found a minor-league baseball game within walking distance, and encouraged me to get dressed so we could go. I put on some clothes, moaning about the few pounds I’ve gained these last three months and how my jeans don’t fit properly anymore. Then we set off, Alec squeezing my hand and both of us sporting sunglasses in the springtime warmth.
The baseball game was even smaller and more inconsequential than we had imagined: a handful of fans, probably family members and significant others, were scattered through the stands. The concessions booth wasn’t even open for us to buy cheap hotdogs. But as Alec led me to the bleachers, I glanced downward and spotted what looked like a bill.
Not just a dollar bill, either. A whopping twenty bucks, still somewhat crisp despite being abandoned on the ground. I let go of Alec, bent downward, and picked up the money.
Alec’s eyes widened. We both looked around, searching for clues as to who might have dropped it, wondering if there was even a lost-and-found to drop leave it with. (Okay, so maybe we didn’t try as hard as we could have, but if it had been a thousand dollars in a backpack I would have worked harder to return the money. As it is, how do you locate the true owner of $20? Ask people to describe the bill?)
No one looked particularly distraught, so we decided to pocket the money.
We didn’t stay long at the game, and we wound up walking around downtown for only a little while before returning home, but that afternoon we put our miracle money to good use: we saw Insurgent.
It’s little things that mean the most.