I thought of all my bowls and jars full of dimes. I find dimes. Sometimes, I find pennies or dollar bills or even $10 or $20 bills, but most of the time, dimes. I still don’t know the exact meaning of the dimes but I know there is something magical about them. I put them in special places—two of which were given to me by my sister who I lost to cancer earlier this year. I drop them into the pretty vase or the tiny French sugar bowl, and I say thank you. I tell my sister I am grateful to have had her for a sister. I tell her I love her and that I miss her.
