Without being taught to be, I’ve always been a saver of money. As a child, while other children begged their parents to buy them things, I would beg mine not to. The thought of someone spending money on me always caused me anxiety, still does.
I would rather people spend their hard earned money on themselves than on me. Even as a child, if I needed something, I preferred buying it myself. Therefore, anytime I was given money for birthdays, Christmas, or from the tooth fairy I would save it.
Around the age of 5, I started stashing money away. Occasionally, my mom would ask me if I wanted to buy something and each time I would tell her no. I refused to spend it, waiting for the day that I truly needed or wanted something.
After two or three years, I had saved up $60. Back in the 80s that was a lot of money, especially for a 7-8 year old. One day my mother, sister and I were getting ready to go to Walmart. I went into my room and stood there for a while contemplating whether or not to take my money with me.
For the first time since I began saving it, I decided to put it into my small wallet and take it along. Maybe I would find something that it was worthy of being spent on. If not, I would just bring it back home and continue adding to it.
We got to Walmart and I held tightly onto that wallet all the way through the store. We got to, what I think was the purse aisle. Up to that point, I hadn’t found anything worthy of buying. Something in the section caught my eye. I wasn’t a girly-girl so it probably wasn’t a purse. But it must have been something interesting enough that required two hands, causing me to place my wallet down on the shelf.
After a while of looking at whatever it was, we headed out of the aisle and half way across the store. Suddenly, I felt it. Nothing. There was nothing in my hand. My wallet was gone! Stopping in my tracks, I looked at my mom with an expression of sheer panic.
I told her what had happened and we all rushed back to the purse aisle. My wallet was no where to be found. For what seemed like hours, I stood there staring at the place where I had set my wallet down, probably waiting for it to magically reappear. Hanging my head in disappointment, I mentally beat myself up for having been so irresponsible. Tears began rolling down my cheeks, while my mom knelt down and hugged me.
With my eyes to the ground, I slowly followed my mother and sister out of the store. As we drove home, I thought of how I would have to start all over. Only next time, I would be more responsible.
Lessons don’t always come easy.
This post is for today’s Writing 101 assignment hosted by The Daily Post.
Assignment: Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.