When I go running or even walking, I'm always on the look out for change. Finding any kind of coin seems like good luck. This morning when I parked at the farmer's market, I thought how I would love to find a penny. Sometimes weeks will go by before I find one. Walking up the sidewalk, I found one, then another and another - six in all. Obviously someone hadn't seen the value in them. Me, six times lucky.
At the market, I ran into someone I hadn't seen in more than 10 years. We used to work together. His last name is Satterwhite, same as my grandmother's maiden name, and years ago we were able to figure out that we were descendents of the same four brothers who came to the United States from England in the late 1700s. My ancestors were brown-eyed Protestants, his blue-eyed Catholics, but all from the same roots.
It feels like a meaningful day.