It Was Meant to Be

We used to come here together, every Sunday after art class. Leaving the swirls of oil on canvas and paintbrushes in linseed oil , I would forget about the beautiful women he painted. Women standing in fields of flowers or kneeling by sparkling springs. Feeling slighted by them he’d reminded me that they were figments of his imagination and nothing to be jealous of.

Sighing I closed my eyes and breathed in the aromatic steam of my soup. Soup always seemed to settle my wayward emotions. It’s true, soup is good for the soul. Thai Lings Tom Ga was no exception. The golden interior of the dining room made me feel as if I could survive anything and everything is meant to be. Pulling out my journal, aka my Little Black Book I stared at its blank pages. I had nothing to say. My therapist told me I should start keeping a journal.

The supple black leather reminded me of his hair. His skin was the color of the cream colored pages. I really had to get a life. Maybe I did need a therapist. It had just been hard ever since his disappearance.

“Everything Ok for you?” The sweet voice asked me. Agreeing with a nod and a smile back to her the woman retreated into the decadent décor. Sip after sip I released my thoughts into the music of faraway lands, far away times.

My image reflected back at me beyond the bowl, in the glass on the table. I realized I looked older than I used to. Rugged wisps of my brown hair fell beside my earrings and my eyes looked sad, so different than before. The shape was different somehow. In disbelief I realized they were not my eyes. Shocked, I stared into the glass on the table again, stared into the eyes of another woman. She was also looking into the glass but didn’t seem to see me at all.

I sat my spoon down and looked again. The woman smiled and seemed to see me for a second but then she turned to greet someone. A kiss on the cheek, a warm embrace to another person. I could see them as if looking through a two way mirror. It was him. I jumped up spilling my soup.

“Is everything Ok?” this time the voice was not so sweet. I grabbed my journal and ran outside, bells jingling as I exited the door. At the corner I stopped, visibly shaken. I’d left my purse. Regaining composure, I returned opening the door.

“You didn’t pay.”

I know, Im sorry. I left my purse, please. I am sorry. I played a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“The soup is a big mess. Why you make a mess of your life?” The woman glared at me.

“Excuse me?” Without waiting or wanting to hear more I retreated past the cheap golden décor to the door.

Walking, stepping, and breathing I had gone several blocks before realizing I was the opposite direction from home. Seeing a park ahead I walked to a bench overlooking the water. I cried. I was losing it, going insane. So young and life had taken its toll.

“The lake is so shiny.” The voice of an older man sitting next to me caught my attention. Had he been there when I sat down? He was wearing a suit with a matching hat and held an umbrella. There were no rain clouds in sight.

“Yes, the lake is very beautiful.” I replied embarrassed he had seen my tears.

“Shiny surfaces don’t always show what is underneath.”

I could see now that the man was blind. “I really must go.” My purse and journal by my side I stood and started walking away.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, be anything you wanted to be what would you choose?” he spoke again.

Staring at the man I thought for a moment. “I really don’t know.” I answered and continued walking away.

“Don’t worry young lady.” There are lots of days ahead of you and the rain doesn’t stay forever.” He tapped his umbrella against the cement sidewalk. I could hear a chuckle from the old man as I walked on.

A few blocks later I heard thunder rumble in the distance. Great, now it is going to rain. Old men do check the weather, I thought remembering his umbrella. Passing small storefronts, I looked for a place to duck inside before the rain started.

Andy’s Antiques the faded tin sign read. The window box displayed old toys and tattered chairs. Somehow these old things held value. Fraying lace dresses withered with time. They were beautiful once. This time a buzzer announced my arrival.

No one greeted me. Lost in my thoughts I wondered about the booths. A small book titled French Wit and Wisdom caught my attention. “ L’amour, c’est renoncer a l’intelligence pour virre de ses sens.” Love is giving up intelligence to live by your senses. The book was dated 1954. It must have been a wonderful era, France in the 1950’s.

Next to the stack of books was collection of miniature dolls. Old dolls fascinated and disturbed me. Hesitant to pick them up in case they were cursed I moved onto the next booth. Rain was now pounding on the roof. I still hadn’t seen anyone.

“Hello, is anyone here?” My voice echoed and bounced off the hollow walls. I wanted to go home. Walking to the door I reached for the handle.

“Borrow one of them there coats if ya want.” A southern sounding voice followed a burly man coming out of the door labeled bathroom. He pointed to a tall brass coat rack housing a scarf, two black coats and a yellow rain jacket.

“I’ll be fine, it’s not that cold outside. The rain should stop soon.”

“I hate to disagree with you young lady but the world can be a very cold place.”

Annoyed with all the cryptic talk I had encountered that day I politely declined a second time. “Here, I’ll just take this. "I grabbed the nearest doll and pulled out my wallet. “Reminds me of my childhood.” More like my grandmother's childhood I saucily thought to myself.

“$25.25” The man rubbed his belly and snorted a little though the hair coming out of his nose.

“Keep the change.” I handed the man $25.00 and smiled before I stepped back out into the world while rain pattered on me and my doll placed carelessly in a plastic bag. The doll had more protection from the elements than I did.

Soaked and starving I finally arrived home. Spilling my soup had left my stomach growling and I longed for a glass of wine. I poured a glass of wine and changed my clothes. Sitting on the floor against the front of the couch I examined the doll. The doll had a delicate porcelain head, hands and feet. I admired the stained rosy cheeks and gingham dress. Quickly finishing my glass I reached for more. The bottle was sitting out of reach on the edge of the coffee table.

Reaching out, I lost my balance and bumped the table forward. My cat jumped out from under the couch and ran across the table sending the doll crashing onto the hardwood floor. Dismayed and slightly drunk, I picked up the broken doll. “Oh, my gosh.” I gasped and inhaled sharply. Reaching inside the shattered skull I pulled out rubberbanded ball of cash.

Hurriedly I went to get scissors and cut open the cloth body of the doll. It was filled with money. Unbelievable. Counting the bills, I tallied $20,000. My hands were shaking. My hunger had disappeared. I was sober.

Too tired to think I pushed the couch over the mess and laid down to sleep. How was this happening? Dozing off I told myself I would return the money to that man in the morning. Good things never came to those who found and kept money that didn’t belong to them.

The sun scorched my face and woke me with the birds. I remembered the money. Jumping up I pushed the couch back against the wall. It was still there. You can do a lot of things with $20,000 I told myself as I dressed. You can buy a car. Take a vacation. Buy a house. Savings. It would be nice to have savings for once. Donate it to homeless people. Save cats? Cats are better than people. People are assholes. Maybe I did need a therapist.

No, I must return the money. Out the door I went.

I scanned the street I walked down the day before. Pat’s Ice Cream. Rockin Records, Marilyns Boutique. Boarded up windows were all that was left of Andy’s Antiques. This was the right street, I’d followed the path from the park to get back here. I felt the money in my bag to assure myself I had not imagined it. It was definitely there.

Entering Pat’s Ice Cream, I asked the young girl with a mouthful of braces for a mudslide. “Did Andy’s Antiques move?” She stared blankly at me. “The antique store next door? I went there yesterday and left something. I need to get it back.”

“That store has been empty as long as I’ve worked here, at least six months.” She handed me my mudslide and I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. She accepted it and cashed me out. May as well make good use of the money.

“You can keep the change.

I wondered back outside and began to eat my ice cream. Now, what? I had tried to do the right thing, but it was impossible. I realized I still had $19,900 dollars in my bag. I need to go to the bank. It can’t be safe to wander around with this much money. But no one knew I had it. Maybe I could tell my therapist. Confidentiality laws encouraged confidence. I went back to the bench by the lake.

Remembering my journal I pulled it out along with a pen. It would be the most private place to keep my thoughts, unless someone found it. I wrote my first entry. Well journal, I may be crazy after all. I found some money in a doll, in a shop that no longer exists. $20,000 dollars to be precise. I was once again struck with disbelief in the unusual situation. Maybe, I’m dreaming, and I'll wake up soon. I'm bored with life, journal. Same ol’ people and same ol’ town. But at least I'm $20,000 richer.

“You are as pretty as a picture, young lady. So pretty and perfect it’s almost as if you were a painting.” I recognized the voice of the old man from the day before. He was sitting on the bench with me again. He had not been there before. I waved my hand in front of his face. He was still blind. “Paris is a city of love and beauty. Perhaps you will go there someday.”

“If I could go anywhere in the world, be anything I wanted to be what would I choose?” I spoke to him. I’d like to study art in Paris.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You have the money don’t you?”

“How do you know about the money?”

“I’m an old man, I know many things.”

“Getting up and walking down the path he whistled and without warning tossed his umbrella into the lake. I looked back to lecture him for disposing of his personal belongings in a public place, but he was nowhere in sight.

I was stunned. I was happy. I felt a sense of uncertainty and adventure. I felt almost sane. I was still holding my journal. With a firm hand I wrote another entry in my little black book.

Journal I may be crazy, but I’ve got $19,900 dollars and a trip to Paris seems like it is meant to be.

. We used to come here together, every Sunday after art class. Leaving the swirls of oil on canvas and paintbrushes in linseed oil , I would forget about the beautiful women he painted. Women standing in fields of flowers or kneeling by sparkling springs. Feeling slighted by them he’d reminded me that they were figments of his imagination and nothing to be jealous of.

Sighing I closed my eyes and breathed in the aromatic steam of my soup. Soup always seemed to settle my wayward emotions. It’s true, soup is good for the soul. Thai Lings Tom Ga was no exception. The golden interior of the dining room made me feel as if I could survive anything and everything is meant to be. Pulling out my journal, aka my Little Black Book I stared at its blank pages. I had nothing to say. My therapist told me I should start keeping a journal.

The supple black leather reminded me of his hair. His skin was the color of the cream colored pages. I really had to get a life. Maybe I did need a therapist. It had just been hard ever since his disappearance.

“Everything Ok for you?” The sweet voice asked me. Agreeing with a nod and a smile back to her the woman retreated into the decadent décor. Sip after sip I released my thoughts into the music of faraway lands, far away times.

My image reflected back at me beyond the bowl, in the glass on the table. I realized I looked older than I used to. Rugged wisps of my brown hair fell beside my earrings and my eyes looked sad, so different than before. The shape was different somehow. In disbelief I realized they were not my eyes. Shocked, I stared into the glass on the table again, stared into the eyes of another woman. She was also looking into the glass but didn’t seem to see me at all.

I sat my spoon down and looked again. The woman smiled and seemed to see me for a second but then she turned to greet someone. A kiss on the cheek, a warm embrace to another person. I could see them as if looking through a two way mirror. It was him. I jumped up spilling my soup.

“Is everything Ok?” this time the voice was not so sweet. I grabbed my journal and ran outside, bells jingling as I exited the door. At the corner I stopped, visibly shaken. I’d left my purse. Regaining composure, I returned opening the door.

“You didn’t pay.”

I know, Im sorry. I left my purse, please. I am sorry. I played a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“The soup is a big mess. Why you make a mess of your life?” The woman glared at me.

“Excuse me?” Without waiting or wanting to hear more I retreated past the cheap golden décor to the door.

Walking, stepping, and breathing I had gone several blocks before realizing I was the opposite direction from home. Seeing a park ahead I walked to a bench overlooking the water. I cried. I was losing it, going insane. So young and life had taken its toll.

“The lake is so shiny.” The voice of an older man sitting next to me caught my attention. Had he been there when I sat down? He was wearing a suit with a matching hat and held an umbrella. There were no rain clouds in sight.

“Yes, the lake is very beautiful.” I replied embarrassed he had seen my tears.

“Shiny surfaces don’t always show what is underneath.”

I could see now that the man was blind. “I really must go.” My purse and journal by my side I stood and started walking away.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, be anything you wanted to be what would you choose?” he spoke again.

Staring at the man I thought for a moment. “I really don’t know.” I answered and continued walking away.

“Don’t worry young lady.” There are lots of days ahead of you and the rain doesn’t stay forever.” He tapped his umbrella against the cement sidewalk. I could hear a chuckle from the old man as I walked on.

A few blocks later I heard thunder rumble in the distance. Great, now it is going to rain. Old men do check the weather, I thought remembering his umbrella. Passing small storefronts, I looked for a place to duck inside before the rain started.

Andy’s Antiques the faded tin sign read. The window box displayed old toys and tattered chairs. Somehow these old things held value. Fraying lace dresses withered with time. They were beautiful once. This time a buzzer announced my arrival.

No one greeted me. Lost in my thoughts I wondered about the booths. A small book titled French Wit and Wisdom caught my attention. “ L’amour, c’est renoncer a l’intelligence pour virre de ses sens.” Love is giving up intelligence to live by your senses. The book was dated 1954. It must have been a wonderful era, France in the 1950’s.

Next to the stack of books was collection of miniature dolls. Old dolls fascinated and disturbed me. Hesitant to pick them up in case they were cursed I moved onto the next booth. Rain was now pounding on the roof. I still hadn’t seen anyone.

“Hello, is anyone here?” My voice echoed and bounced off the hollow walls. I wanted to go home. Walking to the door I reached for the handle.

“Borrow one of them there coats if ya want.” A southern sounding voice followed a burly man coming out of the door labeled bathroom. He pointed to a tall brass coat rack housing a scarf, two black coats and a yellow rain jacket.

“I’ll be fine, it’s not that cold outside. The rain should stop soon.”

“I hate to disagree with you young lady but the world can be a very cold place.”

Annoyed with all the cryptic talk I had encountered that day I politely declined a second time. “Here, I’ll just take this. "I grabbed the nearest doll and pulled out my wallet. “Reminds me of my childhood.” More like my grandmother's childhood I saucily thought to myself.

“$25.25” The man rubbed his belly and snorted a little though the hair coming out of his nose.

“Keep the change.” I handed the man $25.00 and smiled before I stepped back out into the world while rain pattered on me and my doll placed carelessly in a plastic bag. The doll had more protection from the elements than I did.

Soaked and starving I finally arrived home. Spilling my soup had left my stomach growling and I longed for a glass of wine. I poured a glass of wine and changed my clothes. Sitting on the floor against the front of the couch I examined the doll. The doll had a delicate porcelain head, hands and feet. I admired the stained rosy cheeks and gingham dress. Quickly finishing my glass I reached for more. The bottle was sitting out of reach on the edge of the coffee table.

Reaching out, I lost my balance and bumped the table forward. My cat jumped out from under the couch and ran across the table sending the doll crashing onto the hardwood floor. Dismayed and slightly drunk, I picked up the broken doll. “Oh, my gosh.” I gasped and inhaled sharply. Reaching inside the shattered skull I pulled out rubberbanded ball of cash.

Hurriedly I went to get scissors and cut open the cloth body of the doll. It was filled with money. Unbelievable. Counting the bills, I tallied $20,000. My hands were shaking. My hunger had disappeared. I was sober.

Too tired to think I pushed the couch over the mess and layed down to sleep. How was this happening? Dozing off I told myself I would return the money to that man in the morning. Good things never came to those who found and kept money that didn’t belong to them.

The sun scorched my face and woke me with the birds. I remembered the money. Jumping up I pushed the couch back against the wall. It was still there. You can do a lot of things with $20,000 I told myself as I dressed. You can buy a car. Take a vacation. Buy a house. Savings. It would be nice to have savings for once. Donate it to homeless people. Save cats? Cats are better than people. People are assholes. Maybe I did need a therapist.

No, I must return the money. Out the door I went.

I scanned the street I walked down the day before. Pat’s Ice Cream. Rockin Records, Marilyns Boutique. Boarded up windows were all that was left of Andy’s Antiques. This was the right street, I’d followed the path from the park to get back here. I felt the money in my bag to assure myself I had not imagined it. It was definitely there.

Entering Pat’s Ice Cream, I asked the young girl with a mouthful of braces for a mudslide. “Did Andy’s Antiques move?” She stared blankly at me. “The antique store next door? I went there yesterday and left something. I need to get it back.”

“That store has been empty as long as I’ve worked here, at least six months.” She handed me my mudslide and I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. She accepted it and cashed me out. May as well make good use of the money.

“You can keep the change.

I wondered back outside and began to eat my ice cream. Now, what? I had tried to do the right thing, but it was impossible. I realized I still had $19,900 dollars in my bag. I need to go to the bank. It can’t be safe to wander around with this much money. But no one knew I had it. Maybe I could tell my therapist. Confidentiality laws encouraged confidence. I went back to the bench by the lake.

Remembering my journal I pulled it out along with a pen. It would be the most private place to keep my thoughts, unless someone found it. I wrote my first entry. Well journal, I may be crazy after all. I found some money in a doll, in a shop that no longer exists. $20,000 dollars to be precise. I was once again struck with disbelief in the unusual situation. Maybe, I’m dreaming, and I'll wake up soon. I'm bored with life, journal. Same ol’ people and same ol’ town. But at least I'm $20,000 richer.

“You are as pretty as a picture, young lady. So pretty and perfect it’s almost as if you were a painting.” I recognized the voice of the old man from the day before. He was sitting on the bench with me again. He had not been there before. I waved my hand in front of his face. He was still blind. “Paris is a city of love and beauty. Perhaps you will go there someday.”

“If I could go anywhere in the world, be anything I wanted to be what would I choose?” I spoke to him. I’d like to study art in Paris.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You have the money don’t you?”

“How do you know about the money?”

“I’m an old man, I know many things.”

“Getting up and walking down the path he whistled and without warning tossed his umbrella into the lake. I looked back to lecture him for disposing of his personal belongings in a public place, but he was nowhere in sight.

I was stunned. I was happy. I felt a sense of uncertainty and adventure. I felt almost sane. I was still holding my journal. With a firm hand I wrote another entry in my little black book.

Journal I may be crazy, but I’ve got $19,900 dollars and a trip to Paris seems like it is meant to be.

. We used to come here together, every Sunday after art class. Leaving the swirls of oil on canvas and paintbrushes in linseed oil , I would forget about the beautiful women he painted. Women standing in fields of flowers or kneeling by sparkling springs. Feeling slighted by them he’d reminded me that they were figments of his imagination and nothing to be jealous of.

Sighing I closed my eyes and breathed in the aromatic steam of my soup. Soup always seemed to settle my wayward emotions. It’s true, soup is good for the soul. Thai Lings Tom Ga was no exception. The golden interior of the dining room made me feel as if I could survive anything and everything is meant to be. Pulling out my journal, aka my Little Black Book I stared at its blank pages. I had nothing to say. My therapist told me I should start keeping a journal.

The supple black leather reminded me of his hair. His skin was the color of the cream colored pages. I really had to get a life. Maybe I did need a therapist. It had just been hard ever since his disappearance.

“Everything Ok for you?” The sweet voice asked me. Agreeing with a nod and a smile back to her the woman retreated into the decadent décor. Sip after sip I released my thoughts into the music of faraway lands, far away times.

My image reflected back at me beyond the bowl, in the glass on the table. I realized I looked older than I used to. Rugged wisps of my brown hair fell beside my earrings and my eyes looked sad, so different than before. The shape was different somehow. In disbelief I realized they were not my eyes. Shocked, I stared into the glass on the table again, stared into the eyes of another woman. She was also looking into the glass but didn’t seem to see me at all.

I sat my spoon down and looked again. The woman smiled and seemed to see me for a second but then she turned to greet someone. A kiss on the cheek, a warm embrace to another person. I could see them as if looking through a two way mirror. It was him. I jumped up spilling my soup.

“Is everything Ok?” this time the voice was not so sweet. I grabbed my journal and ran outside, bells jingling as I exited the door. At the corner I stopped, visibly shaken. I’d left my purse. Regaining composure, I returned opening the door.

“You didn’t pay.”

I know, Im sorry. I left my purse, please. I am sorry. I played a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“The soup is a big mess. Why you make a mess of your life?” The woman glared at me.

“Excuse me?” Without waiting or wanting to hear more I retreated past the cheap golden décor to the door.

Walking, stepping, and breathing I had gone several blocks before realizing I was the opposite direction from home. Seeing a park ahead I walked to a bench overlooking the water. I cried. I was losing it, going insane. So young and life had taken its toll.

“The lake is so shiny.” The voice of an older man sitting next to me caught my attention. Had he been there when I sat down? He was wearing a suit with a matching hat and held an umbrella. There were no rain clouds in sight.

“Yes, the lake is very beautiful.” I replied embarrassed he had seen my tears.

“Shiny surfaces don’t always show what is underneath.”

I could see now that the man was blind. “I really must go.” My purse and journal by my side I stood and started walking away.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, be anything you wanted to be what would you choose?” he spoke again.

Staring at the man I thought for a moment. “I really don’t know.” I answered and continued walking away.

“Don’t worry young lady.” There are lots of days ahead of you and the rain doesn’t stay forever.” He tapped his umbrella against the cement sidewalk. I could hear a chuckle from the old man as I walked on.

A few blocks later I heard thunder rumble in the distance. Great, now it is going to rain. Old men do check the weather, I thought remembering his umbrella. Passing small storefronts, I looked for a place to duck inside before the rain started.

Andy’s Antiques the faded tin sign read. The window box displayed old toys and tattered chairs. Somehow these old things held value. Fraying lace dresses withered with time. They were beautiful once. This time a buzzer announced my arrival.

No one greeted me. Lost in my thoughts I wondered about the booths. A small book titled French Wit and Wisdom caught my attention. “ L’amour, c’est renoncer a l’intelligence pour virre de ses sens.” Love is giving up intelligence to live by your senses. The book was dated 1954. It must have been a wonderful era, France in the 1950’s.

Next to the stack of books was collection of miniature dolls. Old dolls fascinated and disturbed me. Hesitant to pick them up in case they were cursed I moved onto the next booth. Rain was now pounding on the roof. I still hadn’t seen anyone.

“Hello, is anyone here?” My voice echoed and bounced off the hollow walls. I wanted to go home. Walking to the door I reached for the handle.

“Borrow one of them there coats if ya want.” A southern sounding voice followed a burly man coming out of the door labeled bathroom. He pointed to a tall brass coat rack housing a scarf, two black coats and a yellow rain jacket.

“I’ll be fine, it’s not that cold outside. The rain should stop soon.”

“I hate to disagree with you young lady but the world can be a very cold place.”

Annoyed with all the cryptic talk I had encountered that day I politely declined a second time. “Here, I’ll just take this. "I grabbed the nearest doll and pulled out my wallet. “Reminds me of my childhood.” More like my grandmother's childhood I saucily thought to myself.

“$25.25” The man rubbed his belly and snorted a little though the hair coming out of his nose.

“Keep the change.” I handed the man $25.00 and smiled before I stepped back out into the world while rain pattered on me and my doll placed carelessly in a plastic bag. The doll had more protection from the elements than I did.

Soaked and starving I finally arrived home. Spilling my soup had left my stomach growling and I longed for a glass of wine. I poured a glass of wine and changed my clothes. Sitting on the floor against the front of the couch I examined the doll. The doll had a delicate porcelain head, hands and feet. I admired the stained rosy cheeks and gingham dress. Quickly finishing my glass I reached for more. The bottle was sitting out of reach on the edge of the coffee table.

Reaching out, I lost my balance and bumped the table forward. My cat jumped out from under the couch and ran across the table sending the doll crashing onto the hardwood floor. Dismayed and slightly drunk, I picked up the broken doll. “Oh, my gosh.” I gasped and inhaled sharply. Reaching inside the shattered skull I pulled out rubberbanded ball of cash.

Hurriedly I went to get scissors and cut open the cloth body of the doll. It was filled with money. Unbelievable. Counting the bills, I tallied $20,000. My hands were shaking. My hunger had disappeared. I was sober.

Too tired to think I pushed the couch over the mess and layed down to sleep. How was this happening? Dozing off I told myself I would return the money to that man in the morning. Good things never came to those who found and kept money that didn’t belong to them.

The sun scorched my face and woke me with the birds. I remembered the money. Jumping up I pushed the couch back against the wall. It was still there. You can do a lot of things with $20,000 I told myself as I dressed. You can buy a car. Take a vacation. Buy a house. Savings. It would be nice to have savings for once. Donate it to homeless people. Save cats? Cats are better than people. People are assholes. Maybe I did need a therapist.

No, I must return the money. Out the door I went.

I scanned the street I walked down the day before. Pat’s Ice Cream. Rockin Records, Marilyns Boutique. Boarded up windows were all that was left of Andy’s Antiques. This was the right street, I’d followed the path from the park to get back here. I felt the money in my bag to assure myself I had not imagined it. It was definitely there.

Entering Pat’s Ice Cream, I asked the young girl with a mouthful of braces for a mudslide. “Did Andy’s Antiques move?” She stared blankly at me. “The antique store next door? I went there yesterday and left something. I need to get it back.”

“That store has been empty as long as I’ve worked here, at least six months.” She handed me my mudslide and I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. She accepted it and cashed me out. May as well make good use of the money.

“You can keep the change.

I wondered back outside and began to eat my ice cream. Now, what? I had tried to do the right thing, but it was impossible. I realized I still had $19,900 dollars in my bag. I need to go to the bank. It can’t be safe to wander around with this much money. But no one knew I had it. Maybe I could tell my therapist. Confidentiality laws encouraged confidence. I went back to the bench by the lake.

Remembering my journal I pulled it out along with a pen. It would be the most private place to keep my thoughts, unless someone found it. I wrote my first entry. Well journal, I may be crazy after all. I found some money in a doll, in a shop that no longer exists. $20,000 dollars to be precise. I was once again struck with disbelief in the unusual situation. Maybe, I’m dreaming, and I'll wake up soon. I'm bored with life, journal. Same ol’ people and same ol’ town. But at least I'm $20,000 richer.

“You are as pretty as a picture, young lady. So pretty and perfect it’s almost as if you were a painting.” I recognized the voice of the old man from the day before. He was sitting on the bench with me again. He had not been there before. I waved my hand in front of his face. He was still blind. “Paris is a city of love and beauty. Perhaps you will go there someday.”

“If I could go anywhere in the world, be anything I wanted to be what would I choose?” I spoke to him. I’d like to study art in Paris.

“Well, what are you waiting for? You have the money don’t you?”

“How do you know about the money?”

“I’m an old man, I know many things.”

“Getting up and walking down the path he whistled and without warning tossed his umbrella into the lake. I looked back to lecture him for disposing of his personal belongings in a public place, but he was nowhere in sight.

I was stunned. I was happy. I felt a sense of uncertainty and adventure. I felt almost sane. I was still holding my journal. With a firm hand I wrote another entry in my little black book.

Journal I may be crazy, but I’ve got $19,900 dollars and a trip to Paris seems like it is meant to be.

.