I Have Change

Three people were in a car leaving a parking lot. The driver had one hand on the wheel and the other in a pocket, searching for coins.

“I have change,” one passenger said.

Good.

Nothing happened.

“I have change too,” the other passenger added.

Still nobody moved.

The car now contained several people and, apparently, a healthy supply of coins. Unfortunately, the only person trying to make any of them appear was still the driver.

After a few seconds came the obvious question, expressed with less politeness than I will preserve here.

“Then take the coins out.”

That was the entire event.

I like memories like this because nothing important happened. Nobody was harmed. No decision changed a life. The problem consisted of small money, a parking exit, and two people who believed announcing the existence of a solution was almost the same as providing it.

Friendship is full of this kind of practical uselessness. “I have a charger.” “I know the address.” “There is one in my bag.” Excellent information.

The next step is movement.

The passengers had completed the intellectual part.

The driver was waiting for implementation.

There is a special embarrassment in discovering that the smallest practical problem can control the whole scene. Not love, not pride, not destiny. Coins.

I used to think adulthood meant solving large questions. Often it means having the right change at the right moment and not making everyone wait while you search your pockets with theatrical despair.

The sentence stayed with me because it was so modest.

I have change.

Sometimes that is enough to move the day forward.

Inside I Have Change

Looking back, I trust the ordinary detail more than the tidy conclusion. The object or phrase works like a handle on a drawer I did not know was still there.

A minor detail can be more faithful than a grand summary. The rest of the day may be gone, but this little arrangement still has edges.