I overheard a freshman in high school preach to another, “Like, the body is a temple. You really should be more careful with yours.”

I looked at the two teenagers and thought, “Good advice.”

Then I thought of my mother.

When mama was about eighty-two years old one high school-age grandchild told her that she should be more careful about what she ate. The student outlined the benefits of a vegan diet and how my mother’s health would improve and how her energy levels would increase.

My mother stopped raking leaves and listened politely. She told the student that she had just had a complete physical, cardio stress test included.  She raised a crooked arthritic finger in thought and said, “You want to know the results? ‘No cholesterol, high good cholesterol, enviable blood pressure….’ But, you could be right; the cardiologist did say I had a valve that could give me some problems….”

The student smiled smugly.

Mama continued, “….in about thirty years.” 

Mama turned to me, “You know, I suddenly have the urge to have a Big Mac, would you like to come along?”
​

I picked up a quarter from in front of the cashier and handed it to her.

“They say when you find a quarter it’s a message from someone who has died.” She commented.

I nodded, but in all my years and all the deaths of all the people I have loved I have never found a coin and connected it to a loved one.

Later, when I was at a gym I found an orange M & M under an old rowing machine.  I smiled as I thought of a friend who had died years ago with whom I had joked about orange M & Ms making wishes come true.

Then, I moved an exercise mat from behind the machine and there, between a dust bunny and the wall, was a quarter.

The best messages are the unexpected ones.

My parents once left my oldest two brothers in the care of a lovely older woman named Myrtle.

Mama called her, “Myr-telll,” as Myrtle moved in a slow and easy way.

My parents came home from wherever they had been and as they drove into our driveway they saw my oldest brother holding my second-oldest brother out the third floor window by the ankles, my second brother swung back and forth with his arms stretched out in front of him in concentration.

My parents froze, afraid to scream, “Pull your brother in!” and terrified that if they ran in the house and came up behind their son he would let go of his brother.  Deer in the headlights had nothing on my parents.

They heard their second son yell in glee, “Touched it!” and his older brother pulled him in the window. My parents heard their happy chatter as they stormed in the house and ran up the three flights of stairs.

​Myrtle moved slowly behind my parents, needlework held close to her jersey-print dress.

The boys sat with their backs against the wall, their cheeks flushed with excitement.

“WHAT were you doing?!” My father started.

My oldest brother blinked calmly, “We wanted to see if we could touch the chimney from the window…”

“I did it!” my second brother exclaimed as he held out the red fingertips rough from where they had brushed the chimney bricks.

Myrtle broke my parents’ shock with a wispy laugh, “Isn’t that cute? Boys will be boys.”

Myrtle stayed a close friend but she never watched any of us again – not without some other adult’s supervision.