Pennies

I was too busy to get to the bank this afternoon, so I had to find one hundred pennies. (My seven-year-old will be learning about "taxation" this week in school.) We have an enormous glass bottle (it used to be filled with spring water) that most spare change is tossed into, sooner or later. I've been doing so for about ten years now, and the jar is just under half full.

(We had another that served the same purpose for many years — before we moved, we emptied it out and brought a bucket full of coins to a Coinstar machine that amounted to just over $400!)

As I was counting the pennies, I was struck by how insubstantial they felt between my fingers, as though I were counting some sort of unfamiliar foreign currency. It isn't as though I don't come across pennies from day-to-day — or, perhaps I don't, really. Or if I do, I don't take notice of them.