Pennies from Heaven

Yesterday, I was aware of having had a grumpy bad day, much like the worst day of my post-camp event drop.  And I recognized it was probably somehow connected to a little residue of grief; I've been thinking and writing about ethan a lot the last few days. I even pulled up his memorial Facebook page and wrote a post, saying that I now feel gratitude in the places where sadness sat, and hope others who visit the page do too.  It's gotten a few hits in the last week, around the anniversary, as this stuff comes up for everyone.

At some point not long afterward, I was sitting on the commode doing my business, when the bathroom door began making a classic, cliche, horror movie kind of slow squeak noise, for no apparent reason and without seeming to even move. I've been in the house two and a half years and this hasn't happened before. After a few moments, it started to creep me out just a little, and without thinking what would come out of my mouth, I found myself half seriously saying aloud to the room: "Hey, Ethan, if you want to say hello, I'd rather you leave me some money on the ground."  Then afterward I thought, ach, I should have specified *paper* money. I left the bathroom and forgot about it.

When departed for work this morning, the car was a half block away and I walked - not down the sidewalk like usual - but for whatever reason, I walked down the middle of the street. It's a dead end, but I never walk down the center of it like I did today. I was thinking of nothing in particular, when I noticed two bright quarters shining up at me about 12" apart, sparkling as the morning sun hit them... there in the middle of the road... where I never am... where presumably there aren't normally lots of people walking and dropping things.  

I remembered the squeaking door and my request for money on the ground; noticed that the very first time I left the house after the request, I did indeed find money on the ground. And I thought, yeah I should have asked for green paper money on the ground. I even looked around to see if I might get lucky, wondering/ hoping if whoever dropped the coins had maybe also dropped a $20 or a $50. But I didn't see anything green fluttering anywhere at foot level, so I walked on. As I approached my car, I noticed something as I approached the front, driver side wheel. It was green and flat and rectangular and... papery. About the size of money.  Leaning down to pick it up, I found it was some sort of very thin fabric patch, green camo. About the size of a bill. It was worn enough that as I peeled it up off the pavement, it felt like pulling off a piece of substantial paper that had been wet and dried stuck to something. And I noticed that I'd gotten the second request, for something green and papery on the ground. But this was camo. And *that* had to be a joke. Because Ethan was huge camo kind of guy, he even had a collection of camo Army trucks. He wore camo clothes a lot too. I rode to his memorial service in a camo Army truck one of his friends drove to honor him. I've never ridden in anything else camo. Camo and Ethan have always gone together.

In that moment, my first thought was, "that little brat is actually fucking with me". It made me smile. I stopped, holding the green papery patch folded in my hand, carrying the two new quarters in my pocket, and said to the morning air, "Hi, Ethan! Thank you!" and went on my way feeling comforted, feeling that he can see me sometimes.  Feeling that he may be gone but somehow is not completely absent.

It has happened before.