Yankee Dimes

I just read a very touching post at this blog:http://chellestales.blogspot.com/. I encourage you to read it.

I have been having a similar experience. My mother always called little kisses Yankee dimes, which is an old Southern expression if you have never heard the term before. When I was a boy, she would come up behind me, hug me and say, "Give me a Yankee dime and I'll let you go." She passed away in 1999 and, since then, I have been finding dimes everywhere.

The occurrence that really got to me was last year. The pieces of her furniture that no one in the family wanted had gone from her apartment to a storage unit to our garage over the last 7 years. I finally decided it had to go and called a local charity to come pick it up. I moved the pieces onto the driveway and swept the floor where the furniture had sat for so long. After I swept, the wind came up and blew more stuff into the garage so I swept again. As the people were loading the furniture, I felt a pretty strong pang to see it going at last. I felt guilty about giving her things away as these were things that were fairly dear to her and I was just discarding them like nothing. With some tears in my eyes, I went back into the garage to sweep it one last time. As I looked over the floor to see if I had missed anything, there, in plain sight where I had swept three times, lay a shiny dime. It was as if I were being told that everything was all right. I picked the dime up, kissed it and put it away. Then I cried.

I still find dimes from time to time but that time was the time that I truly felt her presence.