"Money itself isn't lost or made, it's simply transferred from one perception to another."

by Amy Turn Sharp


Once a long time ago before Finn and Blaise were ever sparks in a hidden wish- Joe and I both looked exceptionally smashing one early afternoon in May. Joe had on black Theory trousers with a knit sweater and black leather jacket. I wore all black that day with my new black trench coat and we shined and I am certain that we even smelled so much better back then.

Anyhoo. We stopped at a local bank to deposit some money that we were going to use to make a large purchase together. We were laughing, the kind of laugh that forces yr head back hard and with youthful grace. I may have used my foot to push open the door of the bank and it may have swung in far and quickly and we may have looked like Bonny and Clyde for a moment bc an old lady gasped and everyone stood at attention for a moment and the security guard stood straight up and we just laughed. We still talk about it now. The way the we unnerved a whole bank full of folks that day. It was one of the top bad ass moments of my life ever.

I also recall walking out of a bank after selling my first house and there was music in my head and a skip in my step as I had made money for the first time in my life outside of 9-5. It was like the world stood still and funky soul music came out of my hips when I opened the door to the bank and walked outside and the sun sparkled the pavement, the grey concrete glistened.

Today I walked out of the bank over on Fishinger Road and it was not so much like that. I closed on a house today that had turned from a great idea to a giant pain in my ass for a long time. Who knew the market would turn and beat us relentlessly over and over with sticks? Who knew life would not always be so fair and sun shiny and full of good music? Who knew it would take a lot of resolve to get by for a bit?
Who cares though really. It is only money.
When I walked out of the bank today it was raining.
It was raining so hard that I was wet in one second.
Drenched and tired of caring about things like money that you can't really hold.
That you can't really count. On.

I walked right over to my truck and opened it to the warm scent of wet and dirty little boys and Joe's face became the sun and I shined again and the music on the radio was just fine for today. Everything is fine if you just let it. Be

.

title post- Wall Street 1987