Everybody thinks they know what money is and what it can do for them until they get it. They suddenly realize things like high cost is not necessarily high quality and there are more acceptable and just as comfortable shoes to wear to the market besides flip flops and bedroom slippers and any dress with nude shoes is classier than a mustard dress with mustard shoes. There are many insignificant things that money teaches us once we get it–things that will never matter much in the end–things that actually do not matter much now.
Then there are those lessons money teaches us, heavy with knowledge and pain. We learn that name brands cannot cure poor health, heartache, or hatred. We always knew that, but there are always those days we know it like we never knew it before. But we may continue to pretend because those diamonds, those purses, and those cars make us feel better about ourselves because we have felt worthless most of our lives because we are too dark, too light, too short, too tall, or too much of something no one else likes, admires, respects or appreciates and instead of reframing our thoughts, opening our hearts and forgiving that parent, that man, that woman, or that god we have assigned to our lives, we continue to tip high and feel low.
**I wrote this piece while I was in the mountains. My husband and I made a weekend out of a couple week days. I told myself I was not going to write at all. I was just going to read Toni Morrison’s Jazz. Well, as I should have suspected, I got inspired. I left my computer and notebooks home on purpose, so I could devote my days to reading.
I searched that house, throwing old toys aside, hoping I would find some scrap paper. Under Godzilla and a Ghost Buster’s car, I found a Crayola Sketchbook. I thumbed through it and found a few pictures my daughter drew and a message on another page that read, “It is too dark in here.” I guess it was a message my son wrote to my daughter. I almost cried, thinking of how young they once were. I was going to throw out the toys, reminders and memories of years I will never see again. Then I thought of how wonderful it would be to watch my grandson play with those same toys and slide down that same slide now surrounded by knee high mountain fern.
I wrote that piece about money in the sketchbook, ripped out the page, and left the Crayola Sketchbook up there for my grandson’s visit a few years from now. The thought of it made me smile. Life is funny like that.
By Shawn R. Jones
Author of the inspirational book, Pictures in Glass Frames http://t.co/BxiNwWRG
and the poetry chapbook, Womb Rain,