Things were not going so well yesterday morning.
I was tired and cranky after closing David in Shadow and Light the night before. We did two shows that day and both performances were marred by ringing cell phones, noise from other parts of the building and chatty audience members. I didn’t stay long at the closing night party because I had to go to an audition the next morning, for a role I was pretty sure I wasn’t right for. With the close of the show, I became officially unemployed. I woke Monday morning feeling like I was coming down with something. I was hungry for some breakfast but I didn’t have any cash. On my way in to the audition, I stopped at an ATM so I could at least buy a breakfast sandwich from a fast-food place. The ATM charged a $2.75 “convenience fee.” I was cursing under my breath as I counted my money from the ATM.
And then, on one of the bills, I saw this:
Now, maybe some doting Grandma wrote this on her gift to a graduating grandchild. Perhaps it had been tucked inside a birthday card, or slipped into someone’s wallet as a gift. I know it wasn’t written to me, but all the same, it made me stop and smile.
Because I know someone does love me. In fact, I’m lucky enough have at least a couple fistfuls of people who love me. In spite of being tired and grumpy and borderline sick and unemployed and not right for the role, I am loved. Things aren’t so bad after all.
I’m carrying this bill around in my wallet right now. Eventually it’ll be handed to a cashier someplace, who will add it to her till, where it will be counted at the end of the day and perhaps go to the bank, where it might be added to the kitty for another ATM machine with an outrageous surcharge, where it could be coughed out to some person who’s having a rotten day and needs to be reminded that someone, somewhere cares about them. I hope it helps them. It sure helped me.