The Coin

Each evening when I get undressed, I remove the contents of my pockets and place them on my dresser.  It is all the usual stuff that we can’t live without.  Cell phone, pocket knife, spare change, watch, ring, etc.  Although most of the paraphernalia changes as time progresses, there is one item that I have been placing there for many years.  

It is a coin.  Well, not a coin in the true sense of the word.  It is not currency and has no monetary value.  In fact, it looks more like a silver blob of aluminum that was melted down.  It is flat on one side and almost smooth on the other.  It wasn’t always thus.  At one time, the smooth side had three words embossed on it.

I traveled a lot in my job.  Never for long durations, but frequent enough to pull me away from home more then I would have liked.  That is when I started carrying the coin.  I always knew it was there, in my pocket, and it gave me a sense of comfort.  Often, I would  run my fingers over the words, as if trying to read them by touch.

When I retired, I continued to carry the coin.  It had become such a part of me, that to be without it was not acceptable.  Because, to me, it’s value is in what it is instead of what it’s worth.  A symbol of sorts that defines me.  Defines us.

The coin was given to me by my wife before departing on one of my trips.  She had picked it up in a little shop. They had several of them with different phrases, but this one caught her eye and she picked it up on a whim.  She probably only paid a dollar or two, but it has grown in value over the years.

Today, only the remnants of two letters remain, a V and and E.  All the others have worn away.  But to me, they are still there.  Always will be. Just more deeply embedded.  It will always say I LOVE YOU.  That will never wear away.  If the words are gone before me, the love will still be there, and only I will see it.