Maybe found money isn’t ours to keep. It just keeps dropping at the feet of people who need to know that there are still good things on the path ahead.

The heads up penny on the sidewalk, the folded up dollar bill on the hiking trail. I know not where it goes when it inevitably escapes me too but I can know with all certainty that it’s somewhere good.

Perhaps our lives are littered with pretty little things that aren’t ours to keep. We have them for a moment, and then they’re gone.