Keeping things short today as we have an out-of-town guest, and time for writing has been limited. Just the same, I hope you enjoy this short, yet true story.
Several days ago I was walking Griffin down a street close to our home, and we came across a couple of dollar bills laying right smack in the middle of the sidewalk. Of course I bent down to grab them, whilst looking around to see if there was someone nearby who could perhaps be the individual whose pocket the money had slipped from.
Once home, I tucked the bills into my own wallet, and forgot about them — until today.
Earlier today, my husband Chuck, our friend Craig and I were having a great time in the Gaslamp District of San Diego, watching the parade of Comic-Con characters. We had a ringside seat on the outdoor patio of Bub’s, where we enjoyed beers and pub-grub. From there we headed to one other place for a libation, then toward Horton Plaza where we would catch a cab back home.
On the outskirts of Horton Plaza, the sound of beautiful saxophone music permeated the air; music so lovely that, if we weren’t in such a hurry to get home, I would have liked to have stayed and enjoyed more.
The musician was a black gentleman, with all his acoustics set up, and his saxophone case open for the collection of money. He already had a pile of bills, but from my wallet I added two more. I also threw him an air-kiss in appreciation of his music, and then Chuck, Craig and I hopped in a nearby cab and were on our way.
I couldn’t help but feel that the two dollars I had found the other day were not meant for me; they were meant for someone who needed them more. I feel privileged that the universe trusted me enough by placing that money in my path, knowing I would pay it forward.