One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all.

And sixty cents of it was in

pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the
vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation
of parsimony that such close dealing implied. One dollar and eighty-seven cents.
And the next day would be Christmas...
I'm meant to be writing at this moment. What I mean is, I'm meant to be writing
something else at this moment. The document I'm meant to be writing is, of course,
open in another program on my computer and is patiently awaiting my attention. Yet
here I am plonking down senseless sentiments in this paragraph because it's easier
to do than to work on anything particularly meaningful. I am grateful for the
distraction.
Don't be scared. The things out there that are unknown aren't scary in themselves.
They are just unknown at the moment. Take the time to know them before you list
them as scary. Then the world will be a much less scary place for you.
Trees. It was something about the trees. The way they swayed with the wind in
unison. The way they shaded the area around them. The sounds of their leaves in the
wind and the creaks from the branches as they sway, The trees were making a
statement that I just couldn't understand.
There wasn't a bird in the sky, but that was not what caught her attention. It was
the clouds. The deep green that isn't the color of clouds, but came with these. She
knew what was coming and she hoped she was prepared.