drummer boy

ever since i was kid, i have always liked the drummer boy quarter. something about the rarity of it, something about the surprise, something about pulling it from the change slot of a vending machine made me feel like i had discovered some buried treasure, as if the universe had this unique way of wanting me to be happy.  i wasn’t a collector or anything, i just liked it, and i’d try to hold on to it for as long as a kid can hold onto anything. it was always the last coin i’d spend, and the one i’d hope to find. 

i can’t remember how many times this happened, but it’s just the kind of woman that my mom is, she used to hold on to those quarters because she knew how cool i thought they were, and she’d get them so much more often than i did, because moms are always going past the bank and buying shit for everyone. i can even remember times where she’d be paying for a coffee, and when the change came back, she’d light up, like she’d won the lottery or something.

honest to god that feeling never got old, and it’s been a while, but i still hope with both hands digging through lifes cup of loose change, searching  for enough coins to finish my laundry; as if the universe still has her money on me to pull through this thing, it is the last coin i’ll spend, and the one i hoped to find.