Penny

 PENNY

In 1911 I was shiny and new. Philadelphia, PA was home; I was minted there, as were hundreds of thousands of copper Lincoln-head coins that year.

Over the years I passed along from one pocket or purse to another pocket or purse. I traveled far and wide. So much so that I eventually made my way to the Southland, Little Rock to be precise.

I'm not sure how I arrived, or for that matter, what year it was I landed there. It might have come by car, coach or train, or a humble traveler who had exchanged me while passing through Arkansas. 

At some point I found myself lost. One might even say penny...less. I can joke about it now. At the time, however, I must have fallen from a purse or slipped from a pocket, onto the ground, partially buried beneath the soil, near an old gum tree, in MacArthur Park.

How long I lay there I cannot recall. This much I do know. A young boy, not quite yet nine years old, found me. He was a school boy from St. Edwards, a nearby parochial school. His classmates and he had come to play in the park during recess, as they did every school day. He happened to walk by the old gum tree and caught sight of me lying in the soil. He picked me up. Dusted me off. Looked me over. Tucked me into his pocket. 

Fortunately for me, as I discovered later, the boy was a coin collector. He took me home, cleaned me up and placed me among his treasured keepsakes. I was scratched and battered, terribly worn and faded, yet he kept me. It's fortunate I was minted in 1911 -- a coin he did not have in his collection. All the more fortunate because he like most boys his age could just as easily have exchanged me for a penny licorice stick or gumball. 

Well, that was a very long time ago --- 1963 to be certain. The young boy has traveled well beyond Little Rock, and worked and lived in myriad places further than he could have ever imagined. Yet, in all those years, he never once considered letting go of me, nor do I believe we shall ever part. So, I am indeed one very fortunate penny. 

The young boy, of course, has grown old. And so have I, but then I have always been older than the boy. What shall become of me when the old boy is gone I do not know. I could still end up in a smelter, melted, recast and minted anew. I should, however, like to think I will live on. His children's children will keep me in the family like a great-great grandparent. And if that is my fate, then I am by far a remarkably fortunate penny, far richer than the one cent I was ever intended to be.

© Breyel, Timm. "Penny". All rights reserved.