Change Purse

This morning I was thrilled that I could mail a package of three books for three dollars, and it would take three days! What a bargain! In addition, on the way home I got ten pounds of Maine potatoes, a bag of spinach, a hunk of bananas, a half-gallon of milk and a local newspaper all for the cost of the change in my little purse. Magic. Lucky.

It reminds me of when I was five and I had saved my quarters for months in my little flowered rubbery-fabric change purse with the metal hardware that pinched closed. I got up one Saturday morning and with my best friend Celeste, who lived across the street, rode my turquoise one-speed bike to the gas station, put air in my tires, and continued to the center of town. I went to a corner store and the five-and-dime next to it, and bought silly putty and colorforms and a metal thing that held change, like what the guys at amusement parks used to wear on their hips.

When I got home I was severely punished by my mother. I still do not understand the crime of saving my allowance and spending it. My bicycle was taken away from me for months and I was no longer given an allowance. I was shamed. Perhaps the crime was spending all my money in one day, or spending it frivolously, but wouldn't teaching have worked better than shaming? Now, as an adult, I think the real crime was that I had a mind of my own, something I will pay for my whole life.